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V 


TTHIS NUIVIBER CONTAINS 

IMPENDING SWORD. 

AN ADVENTURE BY THE SEA. 

BY HORKCE HNNESLEY ^HCHELL. 

Author of “ The Romance of Judge Kelchum,” “ The Model of Christian Gay,” etc. 

o o ae* i_. E3 T Es . 




MONTHLY MAGAZINE 
llPPlHCOn S, CONTENTS 

No. 3(1. 


AN IMPENDING SWORD 

The Last Duels in America . 

Highways of the Sea . 

To A Singer (Quatrain) . 

Resaca ...... 

Distance (Poem) .... 

Bed and Board in Russia 
From the Valley o’ the Shadder 
Sorrow (Quatrain) .... 

Official Residences for American Diplomats 
Love in the Afternoon 
In the Abbey of Gethsemane 
The Fiddle Told .... 

A Love-Song (Poem) 

An Overlooked Poet 


Horace Annesley Vachell 593-648 


lVi///am Cecil Klam 
Clare7ice Herbert New 
Clarence Unny 
Maurice Thoinpsoji 
Ida Whipple Bejihatn 
Isabel F. Hapgood 
Carrie Blake Morga7i 
Madison Cawein . 
Theodore Sfa7ito7t 
Clara E. Laughlm 
Allen IIe7idricks . 
Nora C. Fra7ikli7i 
Hattie Whit7iey . 

F. M. B. . 


649 

660 

666 

667 

677 

678 
689 

697 

698 
704 
712 
720 

724 

725 


PRICE TWENTY-FIVE CENTS 

PUBLISHED BY 

J:B:LIPPlNCOTT:C2: PHILADELPHIA: 

LONDON: 10 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN. 

PARIS; BRENTANO’S, 37 AVENUE DE L’OPERA. 

Copyright, 1896, by J. B. Lippincott Company. Entered at Philadelphia Post-Office as second-class matter. 




Haviland China 

It is important to buyers that they should be 
informed that the only ware that has always been known 
as Haviland China is marked under each piece : 


H&C“ 

On White China. 


On Decorated China. 




Bvery bottle of 
HIRES Rootbeer 
is a fountain of 
health. The roots, 
barks and berries 
are health produc- 
ers. Nothing but if 
good is in it or 
comes from it. It 
is the ideal tem- 
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everybody. 


HIRES 

Rootbeer 

A 25c. pkge. makes 6 gallons. 

Sold everywhere. » 

The Charles E. Hires Co.* \ 
Philadelphia. ^ 




AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


AN ADVENTURE BY THE SEA. 


BY ^ 

HORACE ANNESLEY VACHELL, 

II 

AUTHOR OF “THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM,” “THE MODEL 
OF CHRISTIAN GAY,” ETC. 



PHILADELPHIA: 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. 


Copyright, 1896, by J. B. Lippincott Company. 


Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, U.S.A. 


LIPPINCOTT’S 


]\/[ONTHLY ]y[AGAZINE. 


MAY, 1896. 


AN IMPENDING SWOKD. 


CHAPTER I. 

M y father, Hugo Livingston, of Mount Livingston, Philadelphia, 
may be compared to a superb annual which, towering skyward, 
blooms bravely for a season, but dies rootless, leaving to those who 
have loved and admired it tender memories of beauty and fragrance, — 
nothing more. 

He inherited early in life a good understanding, a fine estate, a 
famous cellar of Madeira, and the handsomest legs in America. These, 
in combination, furnished himself and his friends with an abundance 
of meat, drink, and entertainment. He spent his money like a prince, 
and, wherever he went, scattered broadcast both dollars and jests. 
Need I add that his purse grew lighter than his laughter? — that he 
died full of years and honors, — a pauper? 

A brilliant man of the world, he never attempted to make money, 
because, as he often observed, the catchpenny cares of a merchant or 
banker wore away, by constant attrition, the bloom of high breeding, 
— that exquisite veneer which distinguishes from the common herd the 
gentleman of lineage, leisure, and culture. 

My mother — sweet soul ! I can scarce recall her face — was a 
Schermerhorn : her full-length portrait (by the younger West) hangs 
to-day in the gallery of Barabbas Boulde. The curious will please 
note that it is flanked on the left by a remarkable picture of a sapphire 
and diamond necklace, a masterpiece of Meissonier (the great French- 
man has paid but scant attention to the coarse, putty-colored features 
of Martha Boulde, rightly considering that the gems, not the woman, 
deserved immortality), and on the right by a Madonna of Andrea del 
Sarto. Between these two presentments of things material and things 
spiritual stands my dear mother, who settled with the nicest adjustment 
in her own lovely person the conflicting claims of body and soul. My 

596 


596 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


father has said a thousand times that she loved him tenderly to the day 
of her death, — I was barely ten years old when this great misfortune 
befell me, — and he swore fondly that of all the women he had met she 
alone had enshrined herself in his heart as the kindest, the truest, and 
the purest of her sex. 

So much for my elders and betters. 

Before my father died, he gave me some advice. He had little 
else to bestow. 

“ Hugo,’^ said he (I was named after him), what are your plans 
for the future?’’ 

^‘The future?” I replied, vaguely: ‘‘upon my soul, I’ve been so 
occupied with the present” — I had just been graduated from Yale — 
“ that the future has not had my consideration.” 

“Hugo,” said my father, gravely, “you are young and ardent; 
and to such the choice of a profession is no ha’penny matter.” 

“ There is the law.” 

“ You would make a sorry lawyer.” 

“ I might go West.” 

“ The farmer, Hugo, is the historical fool. Go East, if you wish 
to travel : the Pierian spring is not to be found in Colorado or Cali- 
fornia. If you were an Englishman, I should advise the army or 
navy; but you are too old, and our officers play but a paltry r6le. 
As a money-grubber you would have to sacrifice on the altar of Mam- 
mon your youth, your breeding, your conscience,” — I quote my father 
verhatimy neither endorsing nor condemning his words, — “and that 
precious thing, your leisure,” 

“ What am I to do ?” 

“Make haste slowly, my dear lad. The small sum you inherit 
under your mother’s will is sufficient to carry you, afoot, all over 
Europe. Your face, name, and wits should prove passports to decent 
society. Leave this question of a profession sub judice ; but don’t 
idle, and, wherever you may be, set apart so many hours each day to 
serious study.” 

Conceding that my father was a man of prejudice, I submit that 
his advice was sound as a Newtown pippin, and came not amiss. I 
believe in the conservation of energy, and his words chimed harmo- 
niously with my own nebulous arqbitions. Accordingly, some two 
months after his funeral I decided to set forth upon my travels, being 
reasonably certain that he knew me better than I knew myself, and 
doubting nothing of his affection and solicitude for my welfare. 

“The Lord help you !” said my mother’s cousin, a famous banker, 
who had offered me a stool in his counting-house. “ You are a bigger 
fool than your father.” 

“ Did you ever tell my father to his face that you considered him 
a fool?” 

I looked him fiercely in the eye, and he stammered out, “ N-n-no.” 

“ I thought not. I have his whip in my possession, sir, and know 
how to use it.” 

In this Cambyses vein I cut adrift from an influential kinsman 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


597 


who had good-naturedly flung me a tow-line. In his wake I might 
have steered my bark to fortune, lolling at ease in the stern sheets; 
but I was no parasite, and my dear father^s good name was my most 
precious possession. 

For two years I jogged cheerily along the high-roads of life, 
avoiding as much as possible the by-paths, the mas tenehj'osas, and 
following the finger of Fancy, surely the most complaisant courier in 
the world. The dame, however, amused herself at my expense upon 
several occasions. I ate a haggis in Scotland, and some blutwurst in 
Berlin ; but, thanks to her, I listened to Tannhauser at Bayreuth, saw 
the moon rise out of the Adriatic at Venice, floated down the Danube 
from Vienna to Bucharest, — an enchanting voyage, — travelled across 
Norway in a cariole, and skated through Holland. Finally I settled 
down in London to eighteen months’ hard work as a journalist. 

But the tramp fever was in my veins, and the daughters of Themis 
had a tangled skein to unravel. Thus it came to pass that in the 
spring of ’81 I registered my name at the Acropolis Hotel of San 
Francisco. I had passed leisurely from state to state, and my small 
capital had assumed microscopical proportions. With the exception 
of half a dozen magazine articles, — some of them not paid for, — I 
had done no work. But I carried good letters of introduction, had 
accumulated plenty of material, and confronted the future with a grin 
upon my face. 

In this mood, looking at the world through rose-colored goggles, I 
sat down to breakfast upon the morning succeeding my arrival at the 
Acropolis, and picked up the morning paper. I was carelessly scan- 
ning its columns, when the following advertisement met my eye : 

Wanted — A young, strong, healthy man, graduate of a university 
preferred, who must be an athlete, a scholar, and a gentleman. Large 
salary to right man. Apply Omega, between the hours of ten and 
eleven, at the Consolidated Savings Bank.” 

Reading these lines, I speculated vaguely in regard to the number 
of young men in California who would consider themselves eligible 
candidates for the ‘Oarge salary,” and, pursuing this train of thought, 
I reflected that it might be amusing to present myself, between the 
hours of ten and eleven, at the Consolidated Savings Bank. 

Accordingly I did so. 

It was the gratification of an absurd whim (unless we take into 
consideration the daughters of Themis), but it involved me in an 
amazing adventure. 

To my infinite surprise, the bank was not surrounded by a crowd 
of athletes; and the cashier informed me, with a silky smile, that 
Omega was within and alone. 

The San Francisco youth,” said I, must be singularly modest.” 

“Admirable Crichtons,” he rejoined, “are scarce as black tulips. 
Do I understand, sir, that you are an applicant?” 

Up to this moment I had not considered this very obvious question. 
None the less I replied, promptly, “ Yes.” 


598 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


He looked me up and down, a queer smile curling his lips. Then 
he held out his hand for my card. 

My name,” I replied, lightly, is — Alpha.” 

The cashier nodded pleasantly, and disappeared. When he re- 
turned, after an absence of ten minutes, his smile was still more 
accentuated. 

‘‘Omega,” he murmured, “is in the President’s private room. 
Kindly follow me.” 

I obliged him, and found myself inflating my chest and squaring 
my shoulders. Upon such occasions a man wishes to cut as fine a 
figure as possible; and I’ll confess that the enigmatic smile of the 
cashier piqued me not a little. Feeling that I had embarked upon a 
fool’s errand, I followed my guide down a corridor and into a hand- 
some room. 

At a large desk was a small man, out of whose dried-up, wrinkled, 
pock-marked face gleamed a remarkable pair of eyes. The owner of 
these waved me to a chair. I bowed and sat down. 

« Mr. ?” 

“ Alpha.” 

“ Mr. Alpha, let me give you my card.” 

Upon this was engraved a well-known name, — Mark Gerard. I 
hastened to return the compliment. 

“ Ah — Livingston. Yes, yes ; son of Hugo Livingston ?” 

“I am.” 

“ University man ?” 

“ Yale.” 

“ An athlete ?” 

“ I played right tackle on the football team, and I hold the amateur 
record for putting the shot.” 

The man of millions lay back in his padded chair and half shut 
his eyes. From beneath puffy lids he scrutinized me sharply, stroking 
the while an imperial which sprouted sparsely upon a pointed chin. 

“ And your scholarship, sir ?” 

“ I must refer you to the faculty.” 

He grunted approval. 

“ How are you fixed — financially ?” 

“ Two hundred and fifteen dollars and thirty-five cents make up 
the sura total of my capital.” 

“Ahem! and a stranger to our city. Well, Mr. Livingston,” he 
chuckled softly, “ I’ll strain a point and be perfectly frank with you. 
It happens that I can use a young man like yourself if — if he be pre- 
pared to encounter danger — I say danger — in my service. Does the 
word danger daunt you ?” 

“ Not particularly.” 

“ I’m willing to pay the right man ten thousand a year.” 

“ And the nature of the service, Mr. Gerard ?” 

He held up a lean hand. “ Pardon me, Mr. Livingston, we will 
discuss that presently. In consideration of the magnitude of the 
salary, you may reasonably infer that the services required will be out 
of the common. All your energies, capacities, potentialities, must be 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


599 


devoted to my interests. I need, not to put a fine point on it, a faith- 
ful slave.” 

I think,” I said, rising, that I’ll wish you good-morning.” 

He frowned and tapped impatiently upon the table. 

“ I’ve no fancy,” I remarked, for golden chains.” 

Pooh, pooh, my boy ! Excuse an old man’s bluntness, but don’t 
be a fool. This is the opportunity of your life. I like your face, I 
like your name, and I am sure you can put the shot. Your deltoids 
are admirably developed. You are, possibly, the only man this side 
of the Rockies who can fill the bill. What, may I ask, — now, don’t 
get angry, — do you consider yourself worth as an employee ?” 

I can earn with my pen about two hundred dollars a month.” 

He laughed contemptuously. 

“What a princely income for the son of Hugo Livingston !” 

“ Do I understand,” said I, “ that you wish to engage me now and 
instruct me in my duties later ?” 

“ Exactly. You are a football-player, Mr. Livingston, an expert 
at the game. You must have taken part in many a contest, not know- 
ing what the outcome would be. You risked your limbs, your life 
even, for glory. The services I shall require at your hands may de- 
mand the exercise of those qualities which distinguished you on the 
campus. I can say no more.” 

My curiosity was stimulated. By some freak of destiny a ten- 
thousand dollar salary was flung in my face. Pauperemque dives me 
petit. 

“ You have said enough,” I replied. “ I can’t afford to let such a 
chance slip. If you want me, I’m your man.” 

“Good. Will you dine with me to-morrow?” 

I accepted promptly, and took my leave. The cashier eyed me 
askance, and I nodded carelessly in response to his unspoken question. 

“So he’s given you the job,” he muttered. Then he smiled, de- 
risively, I thought, and sputtered out, — 

“ My congratulations.” 

I returned to the Acropolis, and ordered luncheon, — something 
worthy of the occasion, to wit: a nice little cold pint of Clicquot, some 
pompano, — in flavor the mullet of the Pacific, — a Chateaubriand truffe, 
and a Parmesan omelet. The old Roman proverb, a favorite of my 
poor father’s, — spero infestis, metuo secundisy — pricked my sensibilities, 
and also my appetite. Ten thousand dollars — great Scott, what an 
income ! — were not to be lightly earned. A smart tap on my right 
shoulder dismissed such speculations. 

“ Hello, Hugo,” said a familiar voice. “ What the deuce are you 
doing in California? Taking care of yourself, I see.” 

He glanced at the debris of my luncheon as we shook hands. I 
had not seen George Poindexter for many moons, and I welcomed him 
warmly. 

“ Of course,” he said, awkwardly, taking the chair next mine, “ I 
read of your father’s financial troubles and subsequent death. I trust, 
old man, you saved something from the wreck?” 

“ Not a nickel.” 


600 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


As we smoked our cigars in the court-yard, walking up and down 
beneath the palms, George asked me many questions, which I answered. 
He was a native son of* the Golden West, heir to large interests, and 
as good and kindly a fellow as I could wish to meet. Presently he 
said, I suppose you’re looking out for a berth?” 

I have one already.” 

A good one ?” 

Ten thousand a year,” I replied, lightly. 

Phew ! — Ten thou You’re joking, Hugo.” 

Not much.” I pulled the Enquirer from my pocket, and showed 
George the ad.” I applied for that,” I said, and got it.” 

Poindexter halted, an amazed light in his hazel eyes. Then he 
whistled and laughed. 

^‘Where’s the joke?” I demanded. 

Not on you,” he replied, but on us. The fact is, that ‘ ad’ has 
been running for six months, and during that time hundreds have 
presented themselves at the bank, in vain. Now you, an effete Phila- 
delphian, carry off the prize. Why, men got tired of applying. Old 
Gerard just looked at ’em and gave ’em the bounce. But, Hugo, what 
does the old duck want you to do?” 

That, George, is a secret.” 

Oh ! I beg pardon.” 

Not necessary. The secret is a secret to me.” 

It is? You don’t mean to say you’ve accepted the job blindly ?” 

I detected a note of anxiety in his voice which puzzled me. George, 
of course, knew the financier ; and upon that knowledge I decided to 
draw liberally. 

It was there to take or leave, George. What sort of a man is 
Gerard? Tell me about him.” 

He’s a holy terror, Hugo. And another thing : if he pays you 
ten thousand dollars a year, he will expect to get value received. You 
can gamble on that.” 

Poindexter liked the sound of his own voice, and I encouraged him 
to talk. It appeared that Mark Gerard was a most singular person. 
He had accumulated a large fortune by sucking — I quote Poindexter — 
other men’s brains ; and this vampire-like quality endeared him to few. 
He was generous as a caliph, if he liked a man ; but he had no friends. 
He was secretive in his business methods, and sensual in his pleasures. 
Certain stories, George added in a whisper, were afloat in clubland ; 
stories that hinted at a double life, — a Hyde and Jekyll existence. 
Gerard had been known to disappear for months at a time, leaving no 
clue to his whereabouts. Such persons, according to George, should be 
handled with tongs. 

The nature of these communications was not reassuring ; but I had 
no wish to cancel my dinner engagement. On the contrary, I cursed 
the laggard hours which yawned between apprehension and compre- 
hension. 

“ I wonder,” said George, as we parted, if that old fox chose you 
because you’re a stranger.” This hypothesis I had overlooked. 

Upon the morrow I duly presented myself at the Gerard mansion. 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


601 


I possessed a suit of dress-clothes, in which I arrayed myself with 
lively satisfaction. I hadn’t tied a white cravat for over a year, and 
my hand had lost something of its cunning ; but I felt at home in my 
sables and — I will not say a gentleman, for every son of the Golden 
West is a gentleman, but — a gentilhomme. 

My patron greeted me with a keen glance. He wore, what he had 
worn the day before, a plain business suit ; and he received me in the 
library. 

Cocktail he asked, abruptly. 

I bowed ; and the butler brought the drinks. 

To your very good health,” said Gerard, with his queer stare. 

At your service, sir.” 

I hope so,” he replied, with an odd chuckle. You’ve a fine 
appetite, eh? That’s right. And I’m going to give you a dinner 
worthy of it. Yes, yes; a dinner fit for a prince.” 

He led the way to his dining-room, and we sat down tUe-dy-tUe. Mr. 
Gerard plied me with questions, and his servants with meat and drink. 

Know many people on this coast ?” he asked, as he gulped down 
his soup, a wonderful pur6e of chicken, with asparagus points in it. 

Not a soul, except George Poindexter.” 

Ahem !” He frowned. The less you see of him the better. I 
presume he was at Yale with you. Just so. A fool! Leave fools 
alone. I’m afraid of fools. Knaves I can handle.” 

He gobbled up his fish, and tried a new tack. 

You ain’t engaged to be married ?” he blurted out. No? Glad 
to hear it. And you said you were an orphan — eh ?” 

I don’t think so ; but I am an orphan.” 

Good ! I mean” — he blinked and grinned at his slip — I mean, 
my boy, that for the game ahead it’s better for you to be— er — free.” 

You spoke yesterday of slavery.” 

Ha, ha ! so I did, so I did. Well, well, we’re all slaves, ain’t 
we? I’m a slave to my millions: you ought to be a slave to your 
appetite and— er — the exigencies of youth. You were brought up in 
luxury ? Your father was a rich man ?” 

Yes.” 

I know all about that. How does this Chtoau Yquem suit your 
palate ?” 

I became enthusiastic immediately. My father’s cellars in Phila- 
delphia were famous, but he had never owned such wine as this, and I 
said so. He seemed pleased. 

I’ll give you a bottle of Lafitte after dinner,” he said, solemnly, 
which you will appreciate. I’m glad you know the difference between 
good wine and bad, — between dining, as we are dining, and mere eating. 
You like pictures, eh?” 

That one belonged to us,” I said, glancing gloomily at a fine 
Constable. 

‘‘I’ll let you have it — when you want it — at the price I gave for it.” 
He named a considerable sum. “ You would like” — he peered at me 
from behind his glass — “ to buy back the old acres ?” 

“ Yes,” I replied, with energy, “ I would.” 


602 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


Things are coming your way, my boy. Lucky, now, wasn’t it, 
that you read that little ' ad’ ? How long, at, say, thirty dollars a 
month, would it take to buy that picture, or a dozen cases of this wine 
even ? Eh ? eh ?” 

Fifty minutes later the dinner (as he said, a dinner fit for a prince) 
came to an end, and we returned to the library, where coffee was served 
in some wonderful Belleek china cups. Then my host unlocked a gro- 
tesquely carved Chinese cabinet and produced some curious cigars, 
cigars never seen in the market, long and thin, with outside leaves of 
velvety fineness, and a fragrance which lingers still in ray memory. 
These we lighted, and Gerard, sitting near me with his back to the 
lamp, sighed softly. 

I confess that I was nervous. The elaborate dinner, the rare wines, 
the talk, turning as it had upon the glory and desirability of things 
material, had stirred my senses, but aroused my suspicions. Why, I 
asked myself, why this parade of wealth, this worship of the Golden 
Calf? Gerard, watching me with shrewd blinking eyes, interpreted 
my thoughts. 

“ Contrast,” he said, abruptly, colors our lives.” 

And the jade,” I returned, seems to paint blindfold : all the 
pigments on her palette lavished upon one fellow, while his brother 
man, more deserving possibly, must content himself with a daub of 
neutral gray.” 

“Your colorless man,” snapped my host, “is not contented; and, 
take my word for it, the under dog in the fight — who seems to have 
your sympathy — generally deserves to be bitten. I have tried to-night, 
my lad, to emphasize the difference between the rich man and the poor 
man. I have done it, — eh ?” 

The sharp “ eh ?” provoked me. 

“Yes,” I answer^, calmly, though my pulse was running riot: 
“you have made me realize, in a way 1 could scarcely have believed 
possible, all that I’ve lost.” 

“ And all, my young friend, that may be found again.” 

“ Yes,” I returned, bitterly, “ but the cost, sir ? — the moral and 
physical price which must be paid ?” 

“ I’m coming to that. Yesterday, as soon as you had left the bank, 
I wired the President of Yale, and received his answer before sundown. 
It was more than satisfactory. I’m proud to entertain so distinguished 
a guest. And now, as my time is valuable, to business ! I must con- 
fide in you. That confidence, no matter what happens, must never be 
abused.” 

“ Not by me,” I answered, firmly. 

“ I’m willing to pay you,” he said, slowly, never taking his piercing 
eyes from my face, “ the large salary of ten thousand dollars a year if 
you will take upon yourself the duties and responsibilities of being — ” 
he paused, and the pitch of his voice dropped, “ of being tutor and 
guardian to my only son.” 

“Your son?” I stammered. “I understood you had no son.” 

“ Hush ! I have a son, a pretty lad,” — his harsh tones softened, — 
“ whom I love well, — too well for ray peace of mind or body.” 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


603 


^‘But where is he?’^ I exclaimed. 

He ignored my question, and continued, — 

“ The reasons which have forced me, sorely against my will, to 
keep my child^s existence a secret from the world are these.” 


CHAPTER II. 

The reasons, however, remained for a minute or two longer in his 
own possession. An idea, a happy thought, brought a strange sparkle 
to his eyes, as he rose from his chair, crossed the room, and unlocked 
a despatch-box. From this he drew a red morocco case, which he 
opened and handed silently to me. It contained a beautiful miniature. 

“ A very lovely woman,” I said. 

“ My wife, sir.” 

I glanced involuntarily at my host's wrinkled face. Was it pos- 
sible that once he had played the enchanting part of Romeo to such a 
Juliet as this? Or had she married him for his wealth ? 

He held out his lean fingers for the miniature, and, leaving it in the 
palm of his hand, continued : 

I met her at Red Gulch, where I made so much money. You 
have heard of the Black Gulch excitement ; and you know, possibly, 
how and why the place came to be re-christened. No? Well, I'll 
tell you. It was the scene of a horrible tragedy, one of those blood- 
curdling crimes which shock the whole world and are then forgotten. 
Any old-timer will give you the particulars ; but such details are not 
to my taste; and to be honest with you,” — he shuddered, — “I cannot 
trust myself to discuss them. The crime” — his voice sank to a whisper 
— made a coward of me for life. Do you know, Mr. Livingston, 
that one may suddenly lose his grip and never recover it? That hap- 
pened to me. The man who was murdered and so horribly mutilated 
was my partner, and — God! — my emotion will not surprise you when 
I add that he was killed by mistake. The assassin intended to murder 
me. My partner had arranged to visit San Francisco to buy some 
machinery ; but at the last moment he was unable to undertake the 
journey, and I went in his stead. That night the deed was done, — 
done, too, in darkness, which accounted for the blunder in identity. 
But the ferocity of the murderer cannot be described. Only a man 
inspired by the most malignant hatred could have butchered a fellow- 
creature as ” 

He was caught red-handed, of course ?” 

“ No. He is still at large.” 

And you know him ?” 

Yes.” 

But the motive, Mr. Gerard ?” 

He held up the miniature, and sighed. 

“ Your wife!” I gasped, overwhelmed with surprise and curiosity. 

She was not then my wife. She was married at that time to — to 
— the man — the fiend, I say, who killed my poor friend Ferdinand 
Perkins. And, fool that I was, I never suspected the truth ; and the 


604 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


devilish cunuing of the monster threw suspicion upon another. When 
I learnt the real facts, months after the tragedy had occurred, it was too 
late, — ^too late !’’ 

His distress moved me profoundly. 

“ The motive was jealousy, the jealousy of an Othello. I had 
paid attention to his wife, a blameless woman, Mr. Livingston, good 
as gold, and loyal to the ruffian whose name she bore. She must have 
known that I loved her, for she came to me one night, two weeks after 
the murder, and implored me to take her away. I jumped at the 
opportunity, and asked no questions then. We left Ked Gulch — it 
was called E-ed Gulch because — you understand — behind the fastest 
team in the county, but none pursued. The husband — I didn’t know 
it at the time — was down with brain fever, and raving. Well, sir, one 
year later I made that unhappy lady my wife by the laws of this land, 
but, at her special request, secretly. She easily obtained a divorce from 
her first husband, on the ground of desertion and failure to provide. 
He had disappeared. But, to my amazement, my wife refused to live 
openly with me. She gave these reasons 

He paused and wiped his forehead. 

“ This fiend had killed Perkins believing him to be me, and had 
betrayed himself to his wife in his sleep. Small wonder ! She dared 
not tell a soul, fearing for her own life ; but she consulted a confiden- 
tial servant, a Greek, who was my right-hand man and entirely trust- 
worthy. Between them they unearthed the evidences of the crime, the 
clothes he wore, the knife. The devil — he is alive, as I told you — has 
a streak of insanity in his make-up. He has a madman’s cunning, a 
madman’s strength, and a madman’s ferocity.” 

I began dimly to understand my mission. Sooner or later I might 
expect to pit myself against this crazy Hercules. The prospect was 
not pleasing. 

Why did you not prosecute,” I asked, when you learned the 
facts ?” 

^‘Prosecute?” he echoed. ‘^Not a jury in the land would have 
sent him to the gallows. The testimony was purely presumptive, and 
the fact that I had eloped with and married the accused’s wife would 
have invalidated her evidence. I submitted the case, hypothetically, 
to the greatest criminal lawyer in America, and he laughed at me.” 

I. understand.” 

I suppose,” he continued, dreamily, I might have taken the law 
into my own hands ; I might — I had the opportunity more than once 
— have shot him down ; but, Livingston, it’s a disgraceful thing to 
admit, but, as I told you, I am a coward. That awful night’s work 
destroyed my nerve, made a woman of me ; and my wife implored me 
on her knees to leave the monster alone. I” — he laughed nervously 
— needed no urging, and appreciated fully my position. ^ If he finds 
us out,’ said she, ‘ he will kill us.’ And I believed her. 

I made my arrangements, my boy, with that astuteness for which” 
— his eye twinkled — I’m somewhat famous. Money can work mira- 
cles, and I hedged in my poor Lucy with twenty-dollar gold pieces.” 

Your wife is alive?” 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


605 


Yes,” he replied, gloomily ; but anxiety has made an old woman 
of her. Her beauty is gone. She is the wreck of what she once 
was. The Greek I spoke of has charge of her and the boy. He has 
been well educated, but he cannot teach the lad much longer.” 

“ And the name, Mr. Gerard, of the murderer ?” 

‘‘ Burlington.” 

“ What ? The writer ? The socialist ?” 

‘‘ That is he. I meet him,” he whispered, fearfully, at banquets, 
at the clubs, — everywhere.” 

I thought of that familiar figure, Damocles and the sword ; of the 
wretch in the iron chamber, whose tortures Poe has described ; of many 
others whose sufferings have stained the page of history ; and, noting 
the haggard features of the man beside me, his twitching fingers, his 
prematurely gray head, his sunken chest, and in salient contrast to 
these his love of life and pleasure, his great wealth, his power and fame, 
— noting this and more, I considered my own future, and trembled. 
I make certain, looking back, that during this interview I bade 
good-by to my youth. The realities of this world, stripped of gloss 
and glamour, grinned sourly in my face, cackling derisively. 

“ He cannot be mad,” I exclaimed. 

‘^He is mad,” persisted Gerard. ‘^Wait till you see him. The 
glare of insanity is in his eyes, — others have noticed it, — but his self- 
control is marvellous. What,” — he leaned forward and touched my 
cheek with clammy finger, — “ what will happen when that self-control 
gives way ?” 

The ten-thousand-dollar salary began to shrink. 

But your son,” I said, impatiently : ‘^you wish me to be tutor to 
your son. What has he to do with this man ?” 

‘^Burlington,” returned my host, in sombre accents, “will slay 
my boy as he slew my friend. I am certain of it.” 

“ Then he knows of your marriage ?” 

“ He does.” 

“ Of the birth of your son ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Of the sanctuary ?” 

“ I don’t know. I fear the worst.” 

Mr. Gerard,” I said, “ are you sure that you are not the victim 
of your nerves ? Possibly this man never committed the crime your 
wife charges him with. Time has ” 

“ Tut, tut !” he retorted, peevishly. “ Do you take me for a fool ? 
Burlington knows what he is doing. Look here — and here.” 

He drew from his pocket-book half a dozen sheets of paper. These 
were soiled and stained by use. The man must have read and re-read 
them a thousand times. He spread one out upon his knee, and, 
without glancing at it, repeated to me from memory the contents. 

“You cannot escape me,” he murmured, “but I know how to 
wait. I shall strike you down when you least expect it.” 

He handed me the paper, but I could not decipher the words upon 
it. It bore a date, March 17, 1875, and was written upon a printed 
telegram form. 


60G 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


“ A telegram !” I exclaimed. 

“ Yes, and written in cipher, a cipher several of us used at Red 
Gulch, and one familiar to Burlington. Here is another message, of 
later date. It runs, ‘ You have a child. Take good care of it.^ When 
I received this,’’ said Gerard, tapping the faded paper, I went nearly 
crazy with terror. I had solved the problem which had puzzled me 
for five years. My life, in the opinion of this demon, was not worth 
the taking. He had reserved for himself a sweeter revenge. Nothing 
would glut his appetite but the blood of my innocent child. Of course 
I dared not tell the mother, but I removed her at once to a safer place, 
and for months ceased to visit her. With the aid of my written di- 
rections she escaped the lynx eyes of our enemy, and as time passed I 
began to forget his threats. He had left San Francisco, and my secret 
agents knew nothing of his whereabouts. Then he reappeared one day, 
and greeted me on Market Street with a diabolical stare. A few days 
later I received this: ‘You are looking too well. How is your boy?’ 
My friend, I fear you despise me, but I, God help me, had seen this 
man’s handiwork. I — I ” 

“ Mr. Gerard,” I said, earnestly, “ you have my deepest sympathy. 
Such terrorism is infamous. But, pardon me, I cannot but hope that 
this villain is playing with your feelings, destroying not your body, 
which might bring him to the gallows, but your mind. This cruel 
anxiety will ” 

“ Drive me mad. I know it, and then those defenceless ones will 
be at his mercy.” 

“ With your immense wealth,” I said, slowly, “ you could have 
bribed men to ” 

“Kill him for me?” he said, hurriedly. “Yes, yes; I have 
thought of that; but I couldn’t do it, my lad, — I couldn’t do 
it.” 

With these words fled my lingering doubts as to whether or not I 
should accept the perilous position of tutor to young Gerard. My 
reception, the words of Poindexter, the appearance of my host, had 
filled me with misgivings. These misgivings were banished by pity 
and indignation. 

“ I insulted you, sir, by the suggestion ; pardon me. If my poor 
services are required they are yours.” 

He held out his hand, which I clasped firmly. 

“You are very strong,” he said, wistfully. “Will you stand, if 
necessary, between my son and Burlington ?” 

“ That,” I replied, grimly, “ is in the bond.” 

“ Blood tells,” he continued, still clasping my hand. “ I have some 
qualities which men value, but a bastard strain flows in my veins. I 
should have cut a poor figure in the Middle Ages. Well, well, you 
have put new life into me,” — the tones of his voice strengthened per- 
ceptibly, — “ and I shall not be ungrateful. If you do your duty, as I 
know you will, the reward will be commensurate.” 

“ Yes,” I said, heartily, “ the prize is worth working for.” 

He glanced at me queerly. 

“ I was not thinking of the money,” he muttered. 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


607 


The streets were empty of foot-passengers as I trudged briskly (the 
night was chilly) to my hotel. A fog, held at bay by a high wind, 
was impending and likely to roll in from the ocean before dawn; but 
the sky above the city was clear and starlit. In my pocket was an 
address, my destination on the morrow ; in my heart was hope ; in my 
head were a score of surmises chasing each other into blind alleys. I 
had walked some seventy-five yards, when an impulse moved me to 
halt and look backward. Gerard’s mansion, its mansard roofs sharply 
outlined against the purple firmament, crowned the top of the hill ; 
and its massive proportions, in such striking contrast to the bodily 
presence of the owner, impressed me sadly. The very stones of his 
palace proclaimed the Titanic efforts which had piled one upon another. 
The lust of millions, like a monstrous bat, had sucked from its victim 
vitality and virility. To the right and left were other palaces ; and I 
recall^ the histories of the men who built them, and shuddered. The 
loneliness of the spot, a solitude grim with spectral activities, was 
awful. 

Suddenly I became aware that another beside myself was intently 
regarding the house above. In the shadows across the street, leaning 
against a lamp-post, stood a man absorbed in contemplation. Fancy 
urged me to approach him. 

It was Burlington. 

I recognized him at once from Gerard’s description. His eyes 
countered mine savagely ; then the heavy lids fell. 

A fine night,” said I. 

“ Ay,” he returned, coldly. 

The temples of Plutus,” I continued, make a brave showing by 
starlight.” 

He jerked his hand in the direction of Telegraph Hill. There, 
sir, lies Dagotown ; there, the Greek quarter. Hardly a stone’s throw 
from us is Chinatown, where opium fiends and pestilence run amuck ; 
and here” — he laughed harshly — is Nob Hill.” 

The sombre significance of his words could not be misunderstood. 
Once in Chicago I had heard a famous anarchist address his associates. 
At my urgent request, a Pole whom I had befriended stood my sponsor 
and saved me a broken head, possibly a broken neck. The dominant 
note of the speech had been a truly demoniac suggestion. The actual 
words of the speaker were void of offence (from an official point of 
view) ; but beneath the velvety periods was the snarl of the wild beast. 
Burlington’s apostrophe, commonplace enough, brought to mind the 
Chicago den, with its flaming gas-jets and brutal odors. 

“ Come,” he said, abruptly, we shall both catch cold loafing in 
this bitter wind. I’m chilled to the marrow already.” 

We paced a few steps in silence. 

We might wear each other’s clothes,” he said, answering my un- 
spoken thoughts; ^^but I,” he sighed, “am past my prime. By the 
bye, I’ve seen you before. Your name is Livingston, — Hugo Living- 
ston ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“And you write, — fairly well for a beginner; but there’s nothing 


608 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


in it; not bread and butter. My name is Burlington. You are a 
stranger here? Just so. As a brother craftsman let me welcome you 
to Cosmopolis. There is lots of material here, hard and soft. Do you 
propose to work it up 

His questions, and a certain warmth of manner, put me on my 
guard. I wondered if he had seen me leave the house of his enemy. 

My plans are uncertain.” 

Curse it, I’m frozen. Will you pledge me in a glass of hot 
brandy-and-water ?” 

Thank you, no. I’m past due at my hotel. Good-night.” 

We shall certainly meet again,” he returned, carelessly ; ‘^and so, 
Mr. Livingston, au revoirJ^ 

The next morning, sipping my coffee, a paragraph in one of the 
dailies seasoned my reflections. It proclaimed briefly the immediate 
departure of Burlington for lands unknown. At eleven I had left this 
man at the corner of California and Kearny Streets ; and the forms of 
the Enquirer went to press at three. 

Talk, according to Dr. Holmes, is spading up the ground for crops 
of thought. Assuredly my conversation with Burlington had brought 
forth already an abundant harvest. 


CHAPTER III. 

Picture to yourself, if the pigments on your palette are bright 
enough, a landscape blazing with primary colors : stainless skies of 
vivid blue, a dazzling ribbon of white surf, red sandstone cliffs, and, 
in the foreground, a field of cloth of gold embroidered lavishly with 
millions of yellow poppies. 

Here, twenty-four hours later, I found the sanctuary, the home of 
the Gerards, a comfortable, red-tiled cottage, encompassed with broad 
verandas, lawns, shrubberies, and groves of cypress and eucalypti. 

The faithful Greek, Demetrius, received me. My first impressions 
of this remarkable man are worth recording. In his physical aspect I 
could find no clue to his character. He stood before me a colossus, 
impassive and impressive, reminding me, absurdly enough, of the Mat- 
terhorn as I saw it first from Zermatt. How sharply that grim peak 
pricked my fancy ! And yet its profile alone was visible. The loveli- 
ness of the lower slopes, the glory of gorge and glacier, the horror of 
crevasse and precipice, were shrouded with shadow, obscured by distance. 
I knew from hearsay what lay between me and the summit ; but be- 
tween the Greek and me, between experience and inexperience, was an 
abyss not lightly to be bridged. 

Glad to see you, sir,” he said, respectfully. There was no trace 
of a foreign accent. I had my master’s telegram, and your room is 
prepared.” 

He led the way to a comfortable apartment, simply but admirably 
furnished, and began to unstrap my valise. 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 609 

Sit down/’ I said, abruptly. I have something of importance 
to tell you.” 

I briefly recited my adventure with Burlington. Demetrius listened 
attentively, his lower lip protruding, his heavy eyelids lowered. When 
I had finished he refrained from comment, but inquired politely as to 
the state of his master’s health. I shook my head. . ^ 

He is extremely nervous ; almost completely broken down.” 

The Greek touched his own grizzled locks. 

Neither master nor man can stand it much longer,” he said, 
gloomily. “Would you like to see Mrs. Gerard? She is in the 
parlor.” 

I washed face and hands, and Demetrius brushed from my clothes 
the dust of Southern California. 

“ How long, Demetrius, have you known Burlington ?” 

“ Twenty years.” 

At the name a sinister gleam illumined his heavy face. That he 
hated the enemy from the bottom of his heart was plain to be seen. 

“ How was it,” I continued, “ that he entirely escaped suspicion ? 
I did not like to press the point with Mr. Gerard.” 

“ In the West, sir, there is a prejudice against Chinamen. Mr. 
Burlington was editor of the Black Gulch Banner. He said at the 
time that the murder couldn’t possibly have been committed by a white 
man. We hanged Fong, a peddler of garden-stuff.” 

“ Horrible !” 

“An easy death,” said Demetrius. “I’m sorry they didn’t hang 
me. The life I’ve led for the last few years is not worth living.” 

It’s the life of your choice,” I replied, bluntly. 

He spread out his hands, betraying for the first time the foreigner, 
and shrugged his massive shoulders. From these gestures I was at 
liberty to infer what I pleased. A curious apprehension quickened 

the action of my heart. Was I destined to I dismissed my fears 

with an effort, and followed Demetrius to the threshold of the parlor. 
He pulled aside a portiere, murmured my name, bowed, and retreated. 

I was alone with the mistress of the house. 

The contrast between the outward and visible peace of my sur- 
roundings (I noted many books, a piano piled high with music, some 
valuable mezzotints, chintz draperies, bowls of roses, sleep-compelling 
chairs) and the tumult of my mind made me stammer like an awkward 
school-boy ; but the kindly welcome of Mrs. Gerard soon dispelled my 
embarrassment. Upon her gentle face were the lines of a great sorrow, 
but a sorrow so chastened by time and fortitude as to convey to the 
observer a pleasing rather than a j)ainful impression. I soon learned 
that she had the nicest appreciation of what was good, — brave deeds, 
kind words, ennobling books, — and a lavender-scented prejudice against 
evil. No longer a beautiful woman, she was distinguished in appear- 
ance : her figure was still youthful, her carriage erect, her eyes a limpid 
blue beneath arching brows, and her hands, the hands of a gentle- 
woman, long and slender, the skin soft as satin and cool to the touch. 
Upon the palms of these (this I discovered later) were innumerable 
faint lines, crossing and recrossing, the symbols of a thousand cares, 
VoL. LVII.— 39 


610 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


and representing against her family a debt of love which nothing could 
extinguish. She wore, I remember, a dress cunningly fashioned out 
of gray cloth : the soft neutral tints emphasized agreeably her person- 
ality, suggesting a subtile compromise between the sunshine and shadow 
of her outward and inward lives. 

We exchanged a dozen phrases, and then the boy was summoned. 
To my surprise, he greeted me cavalierly, almost rudely, and glowered 
when I spoke of our future relations. 

I hate books/' he said, frowning. 

I laughed. Telemachus blushed, scenting ridicule. The mother 
sighed. 

‘‘ At your age," I replied, I hated books myself, and got little 
good from them." 

He regarded me attentively, and I returned his glance with interest. 

“ What are you going to do with me, Mr. Livingston ?" 

That depends upon yourself. I'm under contract to cultivate in 
you the three M's, — Mind, Muscles, Morals. We will begin to-morrow 
with the muscles. You have, I see, capital legs, but your arms" — I 
pinched his biceps — ‘^are still undeveloped. We must spar together, 
and buy a horizontal bar." 

His eye brightened. 

He is very delicate," said Mrs. Gerard, and so easily tired." 

The boy winced. I liked him better for the protest. 

I'll make him as stout as a bull, — if," I added, he will sign 
articles of partnership. We must work together." 

“ I hope," said his mother, a few minutes later, when the boy had 
left the room, I hope, Mr. Livingston, you will be able to make a 
man of him." 

“He doesn't like me. I'm handicapped at the start." 

“ He is hard to please, and somewhat spoiled. I fear," she con- 
tinued, smiling, “ that you will find us very dull people." 

As she spoke, a peal of laughter echoed through the house, a silvery 
laugh, care-defying. I started and lifted my eyebrows. 

“ My daughter," said Mrs. Gerard, a faint blush dyeing her cheeks ; 
“ my daughter Nancy." 

A month passed, — a month containing thirty-one enchanting days, 
which distilled an essence so subtile, a perfume so sweet, that no mortal 
may profanely analyze its elements ; but my memory, like an empty 
phial of attar of rose, attests its surpassing fragrance. Of course I 
was in love, I had looked into the glorious eyes of Nancy Gerard, 
and knew that my hour had come. Being a wise fool, I capitulated at 
once, an unconditional surrender. 

It is always the unexpected which baffles our calculations. I had 
plunged, as I thought, into a maelstrom of hate ; I found myself in 
the whirlpool of love. Miss Nancy graciously accepted my homage, 
and twanged my heart-strings con brio, evoking surprising harmonies 
and discords. She had a pretty trick of manifesting at once the inno- 
cence of a child and the knowledge of a woman, a combination which 
brought me to my knees in a spirit of humility and adoration. George 


AN IMPENDING SWORD, 


611 


Eliot, describiug Catharine Arrowpoint, says that she was one of those 
satisfactory creatures whose intercourse has the charm of discovery. I 
gratefully borrow this sentence and apply it to Nancy Gerard. The 
social instinct in her was amazingly mature. Certain hours were de- 
voted to music and books, and the rest of the day to the exercise of 
her nimble tongue. We were thrown together from the beginning. 
Of course I spent the greater portion of my time with my pupil, and 
Mrs. Gerard, a prudent mother, kept her daughter under her own eye ; 
but after dinner the dear lady most considerately dozed, and then our 
tongues were loosened. My advent spurred Nancy’s curiosity into a 
gallop. 

“ Mother tells me you are an author,” she said, on the evening of 
the second day. 

I write a little for the papers and magazines.” 

‘‘ How delightful ! It seems such a satisfactory way of making an 
income. You jot down your ideas, — I’m sure, Mr. Livingston, you 
carry a full cargo of ideas, — and then you send them to an editor. 
He writes a flattering letter and encloses a check.” 

Does he?” 

Doesn’t he ?” 

Not always.” 

Of course one can’t please every one, but sooner or later you get 
the check ; and it seems such an easy way of making money. Oh, I 
don’t accuse you of writing only for money. You don’t look as if you 
cared about the Almighty Dollar. Art, I suppose, is your god.” 

“ I have no particular god. Miss Gerard, but I have a goddess.” 

She laughed. 

Have you really a goddess ?” she asked, in a tone of the keenest 
interest. Keally and truly ?” 

“ Really and truly.” 

Tell me about her.” 

I will, some day.” 

“ How nice of you to confide in me ! I’m ever so glad to know 
it, because- ” She blushed, rosy as Aurora. 

“A fellow-feeling?” I suggested. 

Not at all. How absurd ! Well, if you must know, because it 
will be so much pleasanter for me.” 

“ I don’t quite ” 

Yes, you do, too.” 

On my honor I do not.” 

She pouted : such mutinous red lips ; such dimples, — nests of 
laughing Cupids ! 

“ I hate to make explanations ; but — but the very few young men 
I have met have all ” 

You need not finish the sentence,” said I. I don’t blame the 
young men, and I’m sure you didn’t like it. We shall be great 
friends, I see.” 

I put out my hand, which she clasped warmly and unaffectedly. 

I’m so surprised,” she said, after a decent interval, that you 
should give up your writing to teach Mark — what do you call them ? 


612 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


ah, yes, — the three M’s. Here you are alone with two women and a 
hobbledehoy. Is it wise?” 

I’ll answer that question when I tell you about the goddess. At 
present I don’t know.” 

Mark and I signed our articles of partnership, the former under 
protest. He didn’t like me; but, recalling my own youthful antipa- 
thies to schoolmasters and those in authority, I easily forgave him ; 
and, besides, he had a sister. The Greek, Demetrius, exercised a most 
potent influence upon the lad, an influence, so far as I could judge, for 
good. Perhaps it was prejudice on my part, but I fancied that he 
avoided me. Certainly he evaded my questions. 

“ Why,” said I, has Mr. Gerard focussed all his anxiety upon his 
son ? He has a daughter.” 

The Greek replied slowly, weighing his words : 

Mr. Gerard is not alarmed on Miss Gerard’s account.” 

Strange, he never even mentioned her name to me.” 

Demetrius bowed ; his Sphinx-like features betrayed neither sur- 
prise nor annoyance. I could not help admiring the fellow. Never 
had I met a better servant, nor one less servile. His dignity was quite 
impressive. After all, I reflected, if he wished to emphasize the 
diference between us, that was his affair, and not mine. None the 
less his confounded reticence piqued me consumedly. 

Miss Nancy, however, consoled me. 

A few days later the curiosity of the witch bolted again. 

She liked to sit upon the veranda overlooking the ocean. On her 
face was reflected the placidity of the waters ; in her heart, I knew, 
was the restlessness of the tides. Indeed, there was a smack of the 
salt sea about the girl, of the sea in all its moods and tenses. Her 
blood ebbed and flowed beneath the freshest skin ; on her lips, with 
the glimmer of teeth white as foam between their curves, was the 
many-twinkling smile, in her eyes an enchanting shimmer. One could 
swear that those same eyes would flash fiercely in time of storm and 
stress, and that the red lips, like breakers, would curl angrily. I hate 
a tepid temperament. 

Mr. Livingston,” — how softly the syllables of my name dropped 
from her mouth ! — which do you prefer, action or inaction, peace or 
war ?” 

Peace, Miss Nancy, at any price. I push my little go-cart along 
the lines of least resistance.” 

I thought men” — she emphasized the word — preferred war.” 

“ Nowadays they leave that to women.” 

But the love of fighting, of adventure, is natural to man ?” 

To uncivilized man, yes.” 

Strip a man,” she cried, with a touch of scorn, of the rags we 
call manners, take from him the deference which he pays to the opinion 
of society, and what do you find?” 

‘^Sometimes, a beast.” 

“ Ah !” She drew in her breath with a pretty sigh. 

Sometimes, a god.” 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


613 


“Does he teach small boys?” she asked, demurely. “Confess, 
now, Mr. Livingston, you are something of a fraud. You ought to 
be fighting — with your pen, I mean ; slaying monsters, like Hercules; 
and instead you are ” 

“ Talking to Omphale. There is a time for everything.” 

“Tell me” — she spoke coaxingly — “your true reason for coming 
here. Don’t attempt to deceive me. I can distinguish truth from 
falsehood.” 

“ What eyes you must have ! How do you do it?” 

“ It’s very simple. Truth once seen is never forgotten ; the poor 
dear, you remember, wears no clothes — that’s why she lives at the 
bottom of a well ; but Falsehood is tricked out in the latest fashion.” 

“ And you have met Truth face to face ?” 

“ I live with my mother.” 

It was prettily said, but it set me to thinking ; and Thought, like 
Falsehood, has many costumes in her wardrobe. Where did Miss 
Nancy learn to talk? Her mother, sweet, gentle soul, was no conver- 
sationalist; her father, confound him, was a money-grubber. The 
girl must be still in her teens; but her shrewdness and wit amazed me. 

“No man,” I observed, “ incriminates himself. The reason of my 
presence here must remain for the present at the bottom of the well. 
But beware ; I have found out your besetting sin.” 

She looked at me defiantly. 

“ I don’t believe it.” 

“ A morbid love of excitement.” 

“Wretch! You have laid your finger upon a tender spot. Yes, 
I am fond of excitement. The deadly dulness of my life till — till 
quite lately has driven me nearly crazy. I have the dramatic instinct 
strong in me. Heaven knows where I get it, but I can’t be rid of it. 
And my dramatic instinct tells me that there is some mystery here, in 
this peaceful house, where you would least expect it; and you, Mr. 
Livingston, are mixed up with this mystery. There, it’s out at last.” 

Poor child, how I pitied her ! 

“ Miss Nancy,” I said, earnestly, “ the wise old Greeks had a word 
which we translate wrongly bitter-sweet. It should be sweet-bitter, 
for the bitterness comes last and remains. If you could realize how 
sweet and fragrant your present life is, you would be thankfully con- 
tent. This is really fairy-land, if you only knew it, but the beauty of 
it will never come home to you till you have left it.” 

“ Do you mean,” she said, slowly, “ that the gratification of my 
curiosity may drive me from Eden ? Very well : I take the hint.” 

At the end of the month Mrs. Gerard requested a private interview. 
Her face, I remarked, wore a troubled expression, and she twisted her 
slender fingers, a sure sign of nervousness. 

“I perceive,” she began, softly, “that you are exploring a new 
country, Mr. Livingston. The French call it le pays du 

I was completely taken aback. I am not a man who wears his 
heart upon his sleeve, and I had taken infinite pains to keep that un- 
ruly organ out of sight. 


614 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


Your silence/^ she continued, confirms my fears. Let me en- 
treat you to turn back before it is too late.” 

‘‘Turn back!” I ejaculated. “Mrs. Gerard, this is no walking 
tour. I am travelling — by express.” 

“ It is better to walk,” she said, coldly. I could tell by her tone 
that she was provoked. 

“ It is better to crawl,” I replied ; “ but when a man is travelling 
sixty miles an hour it is dangerous to leave the train.” 

“ But you must leave the train — at once.” 

“ And break my neck — my heart, I mean.” 

“ Hearts do not break,” she murmured ; “ at least, not the hearts 
of men.” 

“ Mrs. Gerard, you are cruel. Have you anything against me?” 

“ No, no ; but Nancy is not, as — as you think, the daughter of 
Mr. Gerard. Her father” — the last words were almost inaudible — “ is 
Edgar Burlington.” 

I must have been blind not to have discovered this fact for myself. 
How much it accounted for, physically and intellectually I From him 
she inherited those brilliant eyes ; from him, the power of speech, the 
torrens dicendi copia. And what else ? 

I took the hand of the poor lady beside me, and kissed it. 

“I love her,” I whispered. “For herself, first, and, secondly, 
because she is your daughter.” 

“ Nancy,” said Mrs. Gerard, in frozen tones, “ can never marry. 
I have given her an education that is given to few girls. She has 
abundant material for happiness outside of marriage, which at best 
is so often a failure. Her books, her music, her absorbing interest 
in humanity, these must fill her life.” 

“Why? why?” 

“ Her father.” The fear stamped upon her face twisted my heart- 
strings ; but there was a quality in it conspicuously absent from the 
terror of Mark Gerard. This was no coward sentiment. The awful 
dread was not for self, but for others. “ Her father, as you know, is a 
dangerous madman : the taint of insanity is in poor Nancy’s veins.” 

“ I don’t care a rap,” I answered. “ I love her.” 

“ Mr. Livingston, do you force me to tell the truth to Nancy ?” 

“ You could not be so cruel ; and, besides, I — I have no reason to 
suppose that she returns my love. I have taken no advantage of my 
position. I have ” 

“You must leave the cottage to-morrow.” 

“Leave?” I stammered. The word stuck in my throat. 

We were sitting in the parlor. Mrs. Gerard, feeling that further 
conversation was intolerable, rose from her chair and walked slowly 
from the room. Through the window I caught a glimpse of her 
graceful figure as she paced down the garden path. Was Nancy 
destined to flit from my life in some such abrupt fashion ? Not while 
I, Hugo Livingston, had life and limbs to pursue. I waited a couple 
of minutes, choking my emotion, then I followed. I found her at the 
end of the walk, w^here a flight of steps led to the sands. She stood 
shading her eyes from the setting sun, her glance straying southward. 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


615 


I noted, in the mid-distance, a man walking rapidly, probably Deme- 
trius, for he was tall and well proportioned. Strangers frequently 
passed the house (the sands at low tide were a public highway) ; and 
I wondered vaguely what possible interest this pedestrian challenged. 
Mrs. Gerard ignor^ me entirely. She stared intently at the approach- 
ing man. 

I touched her arm. 

‘‘ Mrs. Gerard, I pity you profoundly ; but if I am willing to take 
the chances, if ’’ 

Hush she cried, wildly. ‘‘ In the name of heaven, who is 
thatr 

She pointed dramatically at the figure striding swiftly along the 
sands. 

“Some stranger,” I murmured. “Mrs. Gerard, you are over- 
wrought : let me take you back to the house.” 

“ It is he,” she said, trembling. “ It is Edgar Burlington. He 
has found me at last.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

She fled homeward, seeking sanctuary like some hunted creature. 
My first impulse was to follow and console, but duty and curiosity 
nailed me to the spot. From the shadow of the cypress fence I could 
see Burlington, myself unseen. He strode past, looking neither to the 
right nor to the left, walking as a man walks when he has his goal in 
sight. I waited, thinking hard ; then I returned to the house. 

Nancy met me as I passed the threshold. Her sweet face was 
puckered and lined by anxiety. “ Mother,” she gasped, “ is so ill. 
Please come to her at once. I am frightened.” 

I entered the parlor. Upon the couch lay Mrs. Gerard. Her eyes 
were closed ; her breath came and went in short gasps ; her pulse was 
rapid and feeble. At my suggestion Nancy left the room to procure 
some aromatic spirits of ammonia. Before she returned Mrs. Gerard 
opened her eyes. 

“Mark,” she murmured, faintly, — “where is he? This faintness 
will pass ; but my child — Mr. Livingston, find my child.” 

I humored her instantly, fearing hysteria. The sight of the lad, 
I reflected, would still her poor fluttering heart more quickly than all 
the drugs in Christendom. Mark, of course, was with Demetrius. I 
had left the two at the back of the house, building a small sloop upon 
plans furnished by me. The Greek was no mean mechanic, and Mark 
had proved an enthusiastic apprentice. 

Demetrius I found busily at work, but the boy was not with him. 

The impassivity of the Greek, as I recited the facts, annoyed me. 
He leisurely assumed coat and waistcoat, and proceeded to put away 
his tools. 

“ Don’t alarm yourself, sir : I can find Mr. Mark. He is around 
somewhere.” 

“ Somewhere ! Of course ; but where ?” 


616 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


“He ran down to the sands to get some fresh water for his 
aquarium.” 

“ The sands ! Good God, man, and we are standing here ! Follow 
me.” 

I ran at top speed to the water’s edge. Yes, he had left his bucket 
and wandered north, searching, probably, for shells in the masses of 
sea-grass and kelp which a recent storm had flung upon the shore. I 
noted his footprints in the wet sand, and close beside them the large, 
deeply indented tracks of Burlington. 

Perdition ! What if I arrived too late? 

To the south the sands stretched widely flat for miles, a superb 
highway, fringed with low sand-dunes ; to the north were the cliffs, 
jutting promontories of red sandstone, honeycombed with caves. 
These caves could be entered only at the lowest tides, and were 
favorite haunts of the boy. In their dim recesses were exquisite 
medusae, pink, purple, and green, starfish, echinoderms, monstrous 
abalones, and other marvels. One cavern, to which the Portuguese 
fishermen had given the melodramatic title Pirates’ cave, had a mighty 
fascination for Mark. He listened to the yarns of the ancient mariners, 
and believed implicitly, with the glorious faith of youth, that chests of 
doubloons, dead men’s bones, and other relics of Spanish buccaneers 
were awaiting discovery. Upon the Pacific slope, especially in spring- 
time, tidal waves are not infrequent ; and Mark had received strict 
orders from his mother never to venture alone into the caves. I make 
no doubt that he ignored these commands whenever opportunity 
served. 

As I ran, vagabond thoughts whirled like dervishes through my 
brain. I recalled the proverbial patience and cunning of madmen. 
Burlington, armed with powerful field-glasses, must have watched and 
waited (possibly for a full month) for this very chance. From my 
knowledge of the man I shuddered to think what foul use he would 
make of it. 

When I reached the end of the sand I paused. A cove was di- 
rectly in front of me, — in fact, a succession of coves, sheltered, each 
one, by frowning headlands. At high tide these coves were inaccessible 
from the shore ; and already the waters were lapping idly at the base 
of the cliffs. Sea-gulls screamed overhead. The wet sand was blood- 
red with sunset reflections. The sun itself was below the horizon, the 
day dying fast, and the short spring twilight stealing swiftly from 
landward. 

Scrambling across the rocks, I scanned anxiously the semicircular 
cove in front of me. No human being was in sight. Hurrying on, 
I struck again the sand, and on it the footprints. These I followed to 
the mouth of the Pirates’ cave. There — where the pebbles hid the 
tracks — the spoor was lost. 

My worst suspicions were realized. 

I listened intently for the murmur of voices. Then, slipping off 
my shoes, I stepped noiselessly forward. My right hand gripped the 
stock of a pistol which (at the urgent request of Gerard) I carried 
habitually in my pocket. The cave had two chambers, an inner and an 


AN IMPENDING SWORD, 


617 


outer, the latter lighted by a small aperture in the roof. I remembered, 
with a sudden gust of hope, that it was possible to crawl through this 
aperture and regain the cliffs above. I had performed this feat myself 
at much personal inconvenience, but Mark made little of it. Here, 
then, was a loophole of escape. 

The silence, accentuated by the drip and trickle of water, was hor- 
rible. A more appropriate stage setting for a tragedy could scarcely 
be conceived. The dank walls, slimy with fungoid growth, harbored 
no echo. What nymph, indeed, would haunt so fearful a grot? The 
pools of water courted blood-stained hands. And in the deep crannies 
and fissures were hiding-places for a hecatomb of victims. 

I am no coward, but horror smote me in the face. 

As I glided in the shadows to the entrance of the inner chamber I 
heard a peculiar noise, — a fretting of garments against rocks. Pistol 
in hand, I plunged forward. High up, crawling painfully across 
jagged rocks, was Burlington ; but where was the boy ? 

“ Halt !” I cried, sternly. 

The sound of my own voice startled me ; and it startled the madman 
above. He turned suddenly, grasped helplessly at the slimy walls, 
lost his hold, and crashed headlong to my feet. He had fallen in the 
most awkward possible place, a rift between two rocks. For the mo- 
ment every feeling was banished save that of pity ; but how to extricate 
him passed my understanding. He lay, senseless, upon his back. The 
trapezius muscles had borne the brunt of the shock, and saved him a 
broken neck ; but in the nature of things he must have suffered very 
grave internal injuries. But the catastrophe added fuel to the flames 
of my anxiety on Mark’s account. Had he escaped through the hole 
in the roof? Or I dared not finish the sentence. 

A hasty survey of the cavern somewhat reassured me, and I re- 
marked, with satisfaction, that the hands of Burlington were unstained 
save for the patches of fungus, that his clothing bore no evidence of 
committed crime, that his features even were calm and peaceful. Bend- 
ing over his prostrate body in the sorest perplexity, I heard a welcome 
footfall, and an instant later Demetrius stood beside me. 

“ Mark ?” I stammered. Have you seen Mark ?” 

He is with his mother,” he replied, coolly. Then he too bent 
down and gazed steadily into the face of his enemy. 

He is not dead, Mr. Livingston.” 

The fellow asked no questions. He accepted the situation with 
extraordinary stoicism. 

He is very badly injured,” I answered, curtly, — fear fatally.” 

“ What are you going to do ?” he whispered. 

“Do? Why, get him out of this — at once.” 

He laid a heavy finger upon my forearm. 

“ Mr. Livingston,” — his hot breath stirred the hair upon my tem- 
ples, — “ Mr. Livingston, the tide is coming in.” 

The diabolical suggestiveness of the words palsied my tongue. 

“ The tide is coming in,” he repeated, slowly, a horrid smile upon 
his clean-cut lips. 

It would be wise, I reflected, to ignore his meaning. 


618 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


Yes,” I returned, we have not a minute to lose. Take his feet, 
Demetrius. Luckily, we are strong men.” 

But Demetrius folded his massive arms and stood erect. 

“ Take hold, man.” 

«No.” 

Then, with a startling change of facial expression, a very petard 
of words exploded, a thunderclap from a sullen cloud. This was his 
enemy, his master’s enemy, whom Destiny had delivered into our hands. 
He had been struck down with foul murder in his heart. He deserved 
to die. He should have died at the hangman’s hands a score of years 
ago. If we succored him now, and ill came of it, the blood of the 
innocent would be upon our heads. 

All this and much more, with amazing fluency and vehemence. 
When he had finished speaking, the plash of water mingled faintly 
with the echo of his concluding words. A wave, the herald of the 
incoming tide, had broken with sullen murmur upon the rocks outside. 

“ I have heard what you say. For the sake of your long years 
of faithful service I shall try to forget what has passed. Take hold.” 

“No,” said he, for the second time. 

Hot blood flows in the veins of the Livingstons. I prefer peace, 
as I have said elsewhere, but my ancestors were men of action, — soldiers. 
What followed must be attributed to atavism. At any rate, I pulled 
out my pistol and clapped the muzzle to the head of Demetrius. 

“ Take hold, you scoundrel, or, by heaven, I pull the trigger.” 

He looked steadily into my eyes and obeyed. Between us, with 
infinite difficulty, we dragged the still senseless Burlington from the 
perilous cave, and thence to a place of safety. Here, perplexed and 
perspiring, we rested. 

“ There is not another house within two miles,” said I. “ We 
cannot take him home. Demetrius, I’ll stay here, while you ” 

“ Miss Gerard is coming, sir.” 

We were close to the cottage, not three hundred yards at most from 
the veranda ; but what subtile instinct had sent the girl in search of 
us ? She approached and gazed pitifully into the face of her father. 
With the quick apprehension of a woman she had grasped the truth. 
An accident to a stranger? Badly hurt? He must be carried at once 
to the house. The coachman could gallop for a doctor. 

“Pardon me, if you will order the carriage I will take this gentle- 
man to the doctor myself.” 

“ What !” she cried, “ take him away, — to his death, perhaps ? We 
are not savages.” 

Her eyes flashed indignation and scorn. 

“ I shall take him to the doctor,” I returned, curtly. 

“Mr. Livingston,” said she, “you forget yourself most strangely. 
My mother and I would blush to turn a wounded dog from our doors. 
I speak for her, — in her name. Ah, how stupid of me to stand 
chattering here !” 

She sped away in the gloaming, deaf to my entreaties. 

“Miss Gerard always has her own way,” remarked the Greek. 

“ So it seems,” I said, dryly. 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


619 


He glanced at the face of Burlington. Assuredly Miss Nancy had 
her father’s chin and mouth. 

“ You knew,” I blurted out. 

“ I knew,” he answered, quietly, divining my meaning. 

You might have told me.” 

I had no such instructions.” 

He closed his lips, and with them further discussion. I decided to 
wait for assistance. Miss Nancy, whose heels were nimble as Atalanta’s, 
soon returned. 

Here is brandy,” she gasped, and a pillow. John” (the gar- 
dener) “ will be here to help Demetrius, and the coachman will go for 
the doctor. Mr. Livingston, mamma wishes to see you now. Will 
you return with me?” 

As soon as John comes.” 

A frown flitted across the smooth forehead of the Greek. He saw 
that I mistrusted him, and resented it. 

I wonder who he is,” she said, softly. A handsome man, and a 
gentleman. Give him some brandy, Mr. Livingston.” 

“ I dare not, till the doctor comes. His pulse is not failing.” 

Presently John joined us. With creditable ingenuity he had im- 
provised a litter, which he brought in a barrow. Having helped to 
place the wounded man upon this, I hastened forward with Miss 
Nancy. The others followed at a snail’s pace ; for Burlington was no 
light weight, and I warned them that any jolting might prove fatal. 

“ Mr. Livingston,” said the girl, as soon as we were out of earshot, 
I told you the other day there was a mystery here. Then it was 
guess-work on my part. It is guess-work no longer. My mother’s 
seizure this afternoon was in some way connected with this stranger. 
When I told her what had happened, she said, ^ Don’t bring him herCy 
Nancy; don’t bring him here.’” 

Your mother’s wishes ” 

“ Have been overruled by me. This poor man must and shall stay 
here till we learn the extent of his injuries.” 

You have taken upon yourself a great responsibility,” I replied, 
gravely. 

“ Ah ! you disapprove ?” 

I thought I marked a shade of anxiety in her tones. I did not 
reply at once, for the words of a great and kindly writer were bubbling 
up in my mind : Whatever comes from the brain carries the hue of 
the place it comes from, and whatever comes from the heart carries the 
heat and color of its birthplace.” The lobes of Miss Nancy’s brain 
were well developed ; but her heart — God bless her ! — was big enough 
and passionate enough for a dozen ordinary maidens. And this, 
according to the writer aforesaid, is as it should be. 

I see that you disapprove,” she continued, piqued by my silence. 

^^Your eyes are blurred,” I replied. ‘‘You have obeyed. Miss 
Nancy, the dictates of your heart ; and heart, nine times out of ten, 
proves a better guide than head.” 

Mrs. Gerard received me in the parlor. 

“ Will he die ?” she demanded, anxiously. 


620 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


has had an awful fall, Mrs. Gerard. And this prolonged 
insensibility argues the gravest internal injuries.’’ 

She covered her face with trembling hands. Once, long ago, she 
had loved this man, had given him that divine gift, a girl’s immaculate 
heart ; and now, as the tears trickled through her slender fingers, I 
knew that she had turned back the tear-stained pages of the book of 
life and was rereading, tenderly and reverently, the sweet story of her 
youth. O Memory, “ active mother of all reason,” what mad pranks 
thou playest ! 

“ Nancy is right,” she said, presently. I cannot turn him away.” 

He is quite harmless, now.” 

“Yes, yes. The doctor will soon be here?” 

“ Within an hour.” 

“ Nancy is attending to everything. I — I cannot ” 

“It is not necessary that you should,” I interrupted. “Mrs. 
Gerard, try to think of something else. Save your strength. It may 
be needed later.” 

“He was not responsible,” she wailed. “His father before him 
was — well, not mad, but very eccentric. And he had been working 
like a slave for weeks, sitting up, writing, till three and four in the 
morning. That, and his terrible jealousy, wrecked his reason.” 

“Happy days are in store for you, Mrs. Gerard. This cruel 
anxiety which has preyed upon you and Mr. Gerard is now at an end. 
You will be able to take your proper place at his side. He needs you.” 

She smiled pathetically. 

“ Mr. Gerard can stand alone.” 

The coarsest ear might detect a discord. The conviction flashed 
across me that the second marriage had proved as disastrous as the 
first. I had no right to judge Mark Gerard ; but from what I had 
seen of the man I was ready to pronounce him no fit mate for the 
gentle woman beside me. My heart ached for her. 

Of course I said nothing of what had passed in the Pirates’ cave. 
She esteemed and trusted Demetrius ; and the facts would have shocked 
her inexpressibly. It was important, however, that I should seek light 
and find it. At present I was in the dark. 

“ Demetrius,” I remarked, carelessly, “ is a faithful servant. How 
did you come by him ?” 

“ Surely Mr. Gerard told you ?” 

“ He told me little or nothing.” 

She seemed surprised, but answered my question. Mark Gerard 
had picked up the Greek in New York, where he had found him run- 
ning the streets, absolutely destitute and starving. He had given him 
a liberal education, and, when he was old enough, employed him as a 
confidential servant. Demetrius had proved honest, intelligent, and 
extraordinarily receptive. Gerard liked plastic servants, and he moulded 
the lad to suit himself. 

“ Demetrius,” faltered Mrs. Gerard, in conclusion, “ has been with 
me ever since that awful time. Nearly twenty years he has given up 
to me. Mr. Gerard has paid him well, but money cannot cancel such 
obligations. Have you talked much with him ?” 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


621 


‘‘ He won’t talk with me, Mrs. Gerard.” 

He is remarkably well informed, — in his way, quite a meta- 
physician.” 

“ His philosophy,” I remarked, does not temper his hostility to 
me.” 

Hostility ?” she repeated. That is too strong a word. He is 
jealous, I dare say, because you have supplanted him, in a sense ; and 
the poor fellow was not brought up as a Christian. You know Mr. 
Gerard’s views. Demetrius is a pagan. When you understand him 
better, Mr. Livingston, you will appreciate him.” 

“ I have no doubt of it.” 

Burlington was needing my attention, so I said no more. My 
immediate departure from the cottage was not canvassed, and I gladly 
left the matter in abeyance. With my hand on the handle of the door, 
I asked one important question. 

Shall I send a telegram to Mr. Gerard ?” 

She hesitated, scanning my face with troubled eyes. 

“ Yes,” she answered, wearily, I suppose so.” 

Her thoughts were straying in another direction. 

‘‘And you won’t quarrel with Demetrius?” 

So, after all, my foolish man’s face had betrayed me. 

“ As for Demetrius,” I answered, “ I shall remember, Mrs. Gerard, 
how much you owe him, and, if ever the chance presents itself, pay a 
portion of the debt.” 


CHAPTER V. 

When does a man — a young man — begin to lake himself seriously ? 
Obviously, when he realizes that the integrity of the human rope may 
depend upon the soundness of a single strand ; that the smallest bolt 
in a mighty bridge may not be withdrawn or suffered to rust without 
disastrous consequences ; that he, insignificant mortal, may make or 
mar not only his own life but the lives of others. These platitudes 
are proclaimed hourly from a thousand pulpits ; but the practical 
application of all teaching must come from within, not from without. 

The doctor, a country practitioner with average brains and a capital 
“ bedside” manner, made a careful examination of Burlington and 
murmured two words : “ Cerebral concussion.” 

“ Prognosis,” he continued, rubbing softly his pince-nez, “ is quite 
out of the question at present. The severe shock to the nerve cells 
and fibres of the brain may produce violent symptoms. Upon the 
other hand, a really serious lesion may not have taken place.” 

Demetrius, who was present, listened attentively. 

“Mr. Burlington,” he observed, quietly, “is subject to fits of 
violence.” 

“ Eh ?” said the doctor ; “ what ?” 

“ To fits of violence,” the Greek repeated. “ He’s a very danger- 
ous man ; at times insane.” 

“ But incapable of hurting a fly, now,” I observed. 


622 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


The doctor pursed up his lips and adjusted his pince-nez. His 
mannerisms had begun to irritate me. 

‘‘ Is this — er — ike Mr. Burlington, the author ?’’ 

‘‘Yes.’^ 

“ Indeed ! A singularly handsome man. But this’^ — he touched 
lightly Burlington^s head — indicates a somewhat unbalanced mind.^^ 

How long will the coma last ?” 

I cannot say. Possibly forty-eight hours. He may come to 
himself in ten minutes.” 

Demetrius drew him aside. 

Are you certain,” he whispered, impressively, that he is abso- 
lutely unconscious, — senseless?” 

The doctor regarded his questioner attentively. 

That is a very strange remark, sir.” 

I know the man,” Demetrius replied. 

“ He is not malingering,” returned the doctor, with emphasis. Of 
course he must be watched. I’ll send a responsible nurse. Meantime 
you can feed him ; but no stimulants. I’ll call the first thing to- 
morrow. I have a most important case ; but send for me, if necessary.” 

When the door had closed behind his portly person I turned to 
Demetrius. 

“ Why did you ask that question ?” 

Mr. Livingston, if you had seen this man’s work at Bed Gulch 
you would understand. He has the cunning of a fiend.” 

His voice quavered; and his eyes, the eyes of a frightened animal, 
sunk before mine. My suspicions swelled to certainty. The Greek 
was a coward. And I, knowing the facts, felt sorry for him. 

“ I saw him fall full six feet onto the back of his head. He ought 
to be a dead man.” 

Yes,” the Greek repeated, he ought to be dead.” 

I dismissed him. Presently Miss Nancy entered the room and 
seated herself beside me. To my remonstrance she turned a deaf ear. 
It was already late, and I told her frankly that she ought to be in bed. 

I shall watch this night with you. Demetrius has told mamma 
what the doctor said about — about the violent symptoms. You won’t 
have Demetrius, so you must take me.” 

‘‘ Demetrius has alarmed your mother most unnecessarily. I can- 
not for the life of me understand ” 

A woman,” she interrupted, deliberately ignoring my real mean- 
ing. Of course not. As for Demetrius, he has done his duty. I 
propose to do mine. You can talk or go to sleep, just as you please. 
For my part, I should prefer to talk. It can’t hurt the patient, and 
will serve to pass the time.” 

She settled herself, smiling, in the chair. 

‘‘ The doctor,” she continued, is an old woman, but I like him 
because he is an optimist. He thinks Mr. Burlington will get well. 
Oh, I do hope and pray that this may be so. You see, I feel that Mark 
was really responsible for the accident. The poor man must have seen 
the boy’s tracks in the sand, and followed them out of curiosity into the 
cave. Then he naturally wondered how Mark left the cave, and tried 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


623 


to follow the same road. And it is so interesting to think that he is 
the Burlington. I’ve read some of his articles and one of his books, 
and I’m ever so sorry for him.” 

“ And why ?” 

“ Because it’s plain — to a woman — that he has been the under dog 
in the fight. Not that he ever was whipped.” 

“ You are catholic in your tastes,” I observed. ‘‘ You like the 
doctor because he is an optimist, and Burlington because he writes a 
lot of morbid, materialistic rubbish. I know a third person who is 
cultivating a wholesome and cheering style. He, possibly, is outside 
the pale of your sympathy.” 

“ He probably doesn’t need it.” 

“ He wants an allopathic dose, to be taken immediately.” 

This was true. Flopping about in a quagmire of perplexity, I 
realized my dependence upon others. 

“ Go to your goddess,” she said. 

I had forgotten the goddess, and smiled. 

‘‘ Ah, you have had a surfeit from her.” 

“ No, my goddess feels as you do. A lame dog limping over a stile 
is a sight that never fails to fill her pretty eyes with tears, but ” 

“ A big, lazy mastiff blinking in the sun makes her want to poke 
him up with a sharp stick. Your goddess is a sensible woman. It is 
not sympathy your mastiff wants, but a square meal.” 

‘‘ That is very true,” I admitted. Under the pressure of circum- 
stances, I had missed my dinner. My chance shaft struck the target. 
Miss Nancy jumped energetically from her chair and fled. When she 
returned, a tray, handsomely garnished, testified to the accuracy of my 
aim. 

Here,” she said, laughing, “ is your bone, poor doggie.” 

I attacked with vigor some cold chicken. 

“Your mother,” said I, “knows that you are here?” 

“ A most violent assumption,” she returned, coolly. “ My mother, 
as you suggested, should be spared all worry. I’m here on my own 
responsibility.” 

“ Mr. Gerard will come to-morrow.” 

“ And you think he will be angry. I can assure you you are mis- 
taken. Mark is the apple of father’s eye. He looks upon me as a 
vegetable of no consequence, a sort of pumpkin.” 

Her indifference was pathetic. 

“We have not seen him,” she murmured, “for more than six 
months. He may stay with us for six hours.” 

Mark Gerard passed as her father. His long absences from home 
were accepted by Miss Nancy, without comment, as commonplace facts, 
connected — so she supposed — with business affairs. Of his standing 
ill San Francisco she was entirely ignorant. The girl had been edu- 
cated in the East and abroad. She read no newspapers. She asked 
no indiscreet questions. Custom had atrophied curiosity. 

“ Of course,” I said, apologetically, “ he is a very busy man.” 

“ He must be,” she returned. 

Then she leaned back and closed her eyes. A mastiff feeding is 


624 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


not an aesthetic sight ; and I confess that I was hungry. As I munched 
away, the two faces almost within touch of my hand challenged atten- 
tion. The likeness between father and daughter grew startling, — so 
startling, indeed, that I gulped down a glass of wine to quiet my 
bristling sensibilities. No wonder Mark Gerard had sent her abroad 
and to the East. With that face confronting him, his apprehensions, 
poor devil, must have run riot. 

There is thunder in the air,” said Miss Nancy, raising her heavy 

lids. 

Thunder?” I repeated, incredulously. 

‘‘And lightning. Well, it will clear the atmosphere. The ba- 
rometer has been at ‘ set fair’ long enough.” 

Her perspicacity confounded me. With men of all sorts and 
conditions I was familiar; with women I had come but seldom in 
contact. 

“Yes, we are smarter than you think,” she said, divining my 
thoughts. “ By the bye, why do you dislike Demetrius ?” 

“ Your mother says he is a pagan.” 

“ So was Marcus Aurelius. Mr. Livingston, why can’t you talk to 
me frankly? Forget that I am a girl.” 

She spoke gravely, — with emphasis, without excitement. A man, 
I reflected, might do well to pick up the gauntlet she had thrown down. 
A friendly contest of wits was just the tonic I needed ; but Mark 
Gerard had my word, and my tongue was tied. 

“ Demetrius, Miss Nancy, is a Greek, with a Greek’s subtlety and 
cunning. Unless I am very much mistaken, he has served Mr. Gerard, 
faithfully. I’ll admit, because it was to his interest to do so. Pie be- 
lieves in the doctrine of expediency, that the end justifies the means. 
That is why I call him a pagan.” 

“ Yes,” she said, thoughtfully, “ you are right. Hush !” 

She moved swiftly across the room, opened the door, glanced 
keenly to right and left, and returned to her chair. 

“ I thought,” she whispered, “ that I heard a noise outside. I was 
mistaken.” 

“ Your nerves ‘are ” 

“ In excellent order, thank you. Mr. Livingston,” — her voice 
betrayed for the first time excitement, — “ look ! He is coming 
to.” " 

I sprang to my feet, and together we approached the bed and bent 
inquiringly over the patient. His eyelids twitched convulsively, and 
then opened. The man was conscious. At the same moment my ear 
caught the sound of a distinct creak in the passage. My eyes sought 
Miss Nancy’s. 

“ That was what I heard just now,” she murmured. “ It’s nothing: 
all these wooden houses creak.” 

Burlington monopolized our attention, and no more was said. The 
doctor had left instructions, which were followed to the letter. Miss 
Nancy supported the sick man’s head, while I, with a teaspoon, fed 
him slowly with prepared bouillon. Burlington swallowed the broth 
with difficulty, and made no attempt to speak. He was not violent, 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


625 


and apparently was not in pain. We waited patiently for his first 
words. 

Where am I ?” he stammered, when the broth was consumed and 
his head once more upon the pillow. 

‘‘ With friends/’ 1 answered. 

Friends ?” His voice was singularly strong and harsh. I have 
no friends. Ha ! I remember : the cave, yes, — and the boy.” 

He attempted to move, and groaned deeply. 

“ Mr. Burlington, you know me, I think : Hugo Livingston. Let 
me entreat you to keep perfectly quiet. Don’t move, and don’t talk. 
I can give you a hypodermic injection ; but you are better without it. 
The doctor will be here to-morrow morning early.” 

He nodded and closed his eyes. Of course further talking between 
Nancy and me was impossible. We sat in silence through the watches 
of the night, performing from time to time such offices as were required. 

The birds had begun to twitter their matins when the doctor drove 
up. He had been attending a dying patient. He protested against 
Nancy’s vigil, and pronounced the patient in no immediate danger. 

You will please go to bed. Miss Gerard, or at any rate lie down. 
I insist. Demetrius will take your place; and I shall relieve Mr. 
Livingston. Perhaps you will be kind enough to ask the Greek to 
come to me at once. I expect the nurse in half an hour.” 

I glanced at my watch as Nancy obeyed. It was six o’clock, and 
the household was already astir. Demetrius, I knew, was no sluggard, 
no lie-a-bed. He would answer the summons promptly ; and upon 
my immediate action might hang the life of Burlington. 

Distracted by doubt, I walked to the window and flung up the 
lower sash. The fresh air flooded the room ; with it came the sounds 
and odors of spring. The full-throated meadow-larks (California has 
few singing birds) had begun their roulades, to which the staccato 
notes of the gulls and the myriad-voiced chorus of frogs from the 
marshes east of the sand-dunes furnished a curious and effective 
accompaniment. The scent of violet, heliotrope, and jasmine hung 
lightly on the breeze. The lawn sparkled with dew. The lanceo- 
late leaves of the eucalypti quivered against an opalescent sky. Lean- 
ing out of the window, my tired eyes rested gladly upon the Pacific, 
which wooed me to its embrace with a tender murmur of welcome. 
From the multitude of sea-birds I could prophesy that the mackerel 
and sardines were in the bay. The cormorants were hard at work, 
plunging with mighty splashes into the W'ater. I caught now and 
again the gleam of a mackerel in their monstrous beaks, and noted 
idly the parasites snapping up the morsels of fish carelessly dropped 
by their patrons. What a paradise ! To me a garden of Eden, with 
its tree of knowledge of go(^ and evil, its serpent, its Eve, and, alas ! 
the angel with the flaming sword. 

It falls to the lot of all sons of Adam to wander once down the 
enchanted glades of Eden. How many recognize the place too late, 
when the gate is closed against them forever ! 

My thoughts were put to flight by the sound of Nancy’s voice. 
She beckoned eagerly from the passage. 

VoL. LVII.— 40 


626 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


An extraordinary thing has happened/’ she gasped. Demetrius 
has gone. He never went to bed at all. And — and he has taken 
Mark with him !” 

Gone !” I ejaculated. So the fellow had turned tail. His nerves 
at the critical moment had failed. 

“ He has left a letter for mamma. She is reading it now. I must 
go to her.” 

Flinging these disjointed phrases at my head, she left me, and I 
returned thoughtfully to the bedside of Burlington. As yet he had 
shown no disposition to talk. The doctor’s second examination had 
provoked groans and affirmative nods in response to important ques- 
tions. The man was terribly bruised ; but his bones, mirahile dictUj 
were still intact. Quiet, of course, was imperative ; and any excite- 
ment might prove fatal. I led the doctor to the window and told him 
briefly that Demetrius had left the house. ‘^Anything you need, 
doctor, I can get. Pray command me.” The doctor, however, refused 
my services, and went himself to prepare a liniment. I accompanied 
him to the door, and when I turned confronted the melancholy eyes 
of Burlington. The fire was out of them ; in its place was a ques- 
tion. 

^^Am I in the house of Mark Gerard ?” he asked, harshly. 

You are in the house of Mrs. Gerard,” I replied. It was futile 
to evade the truth, but I wondered how he would take it. 

He took it, as might be expected, hardly, — in silence. The hot 
blood flamed across his forehead, and ebbed instantly, leaving the pale 
complexion livid, — a danger-signal which quickened my own pulses. 
The situation was intensely dramatic. His next question surprised 
me : 

Is the Greek here ?” 

He was here.” 

Curse him ! Don’t let him come into this room.” 

He closed his eyes and said no more. After all, he had said 
enough. The mere words, coupled with the tones of his deep voice, 
horrified me. Manifestly, his appetite for blood was not yet glutted. 
And this man was the father of Nancy ! 

An hour later the letter of Demetrius was placed in my hands. I 
had finished a hasty breakfast, and was sitting, smoking, upon the 
veranda. The doctor and the nurse were with Burlington. The letter 
ran thus : 

^^Dear Madam, — Acting in accordance with the instructions I 
received from my master, I have been compelled to leave your house 
and take your son with me. We can camp at the hut on the island” 
(Mark had described this hut to me with enthusiasm : it had been 
built by his father, and well provisioned, for the purposes of duck- 
shooting), and Mark, as you know, will be safe and happy there with 
me. I dare not take the chances of exposing the boy to the fury of a 
powerful madman. 

Yours respectfully, madam, 

Demetrius.” 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


627 


Nancy brought me this carefully written epistle, and with it a 
message from her mother. Mrs. Gerard was prostrated by the events 
of the past twenty-four hours and unable to leave her room. She 
approved the flight of Demetrius. 

He is certainly faithful,” said Miss Nancy. 

Why are you not lying down ?” I asked, severely. 

I could not rest while — while the thunder is in the air. Mamma 
has just given me the key to the puzzle. She has told me that Mr. 
Burlington is a madman, — that he has a terrible grudge against father, 
and wishes to murder poor Mark. How horrible !” 

“Very horrible,” I said, gravely. 

“ And you,” she continued, “ were sent down to stand between 
Mark and this dreadful monster. I did you an injustice. Forgive 
me.” 

She held out her hand frankly, with an air of good-fellowship 
which argued the lack of a tenderer sentiment. 

“ But the monster,” she continued, with a slight shiver, “ is surely 
helpless ?” 

“ That, Miss Nancy, we do not know. We think so.” 

“ Mamma also told me that he had once tried to murder father, 
and instead had killed his partner. I could see that the mere telling 
of the story upset her terribly. Oh, Mr. Livingston, my heart mis- 
gives me when I think that I^m responsible for this man being here. 
What have I done in my folly and conceit?” 

Her distress was most painful to witness ; and naturally I oflered 
some crumbs of comfort, pointing out that she had acted according to 
the dictates of her heart, a woman’s wisest counsellor, and doubtless 
for the best, ultimately. 

“ Why has this man,” she asked, fiercely, “ been suffered to heap 
such wretchedness upon the heads of innocent people?” 

I was silent. 

“Have you nothing to say?” she demanded, hotly. 

“There is reason in everything,” I answered, — “the inexorable 
logic of cause and effect. I believe that the answer to most of our 
questions may be found, if we search patiently. The problem of 
human suffering is to be solved, but not by random guess-work. The 
sufferings of such a woman as your mother are to me evidence of a 
future state of existence.” 

She listened attentively to my crude response, a softer light suffusing 
her fine eyes. The thought struck me that both of us, she as well as 
I, had taken life too li^tly and needed the discipline of reflection. 
To me personally things in general had begun to assume strange pro- 
portions ; some of my mountains dwindled to mole-hills, and vice 
versa; substance melted into shadow; the ideal absorbed the real. 
The process is often rapid, and, like a trip across the English Channel, 
most upsetting. 

“ Yesterday,” said Nancy, after a significant pause, “ I particularly 
noticed the sunset. The line of surf, with the light behind it, was 
purple, not white ; and yet I knew, of course, that it was white. It 
is so with the human souls we meet ; their color depends upon the 


628 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


light, and our own eyes deceive us. And there are always the two 
roads, one leading to heaven, — on earth, I mean, — and the other 

The land of regret. May you never set foot there !” 

I spoke warmly. 

Thank you : you would 

Turn myself into a sign-post for your sake. Most assuredly.” 

We gazed calmly and dispassionately into each other^s eyes. Per- 
haps, all in all, it was the bitterest moment of my life, for I saw that 
she had guessed my secret and remained unmoved ; and yet — the 
leaven of sweetness was there. 


CHAPTER VI. 

At the request of Mrs. Gerard, I drove alone to meet her husband, 
a passenger on the incoming stage, which was due at the nearest town 
(a wretched village) about five in the afternoon. Burlington, so the 
doctor assured me, was, practically speaking, paralyzed, and unable to 
move his limbs without suffering intense pain. During the day he 
had spoken to none, taking what nourishment was offered, and sub- 
mitting without a groan to the treatment prescribed. The nurse was 
a powerful man, fully awake to his responsibilities. Gerard doubtless 
had much to say to me, and I to him. Under these circumstances I 
consented to leave the house. 

“ Will he live?” was the first question of Gerard. 

The doctor thinks so.” 

Then I told my story from start to finish, eliminating the murder- 
ous suggestions of the Greek. Gerard was intensely excited. 

Good Lord !” he burst out, what an escape the lad has had !” 

I concluded with the flight of Demetrius, and gave him the Greek’s 
letter, which he read rapidly and placed in his pocket-book. 

‘‘ Well,” he said, sharply, in the tone of a man who is puzzled but 
won’t admit it, — “ well, sir, what is your opinion ? Mind, your honest 
opinion.” 

Demetrius,” said I, slowly, searching for a suitable epithet and 
selecting the one upon my tongue’s tip, is a damned coward.” 

“And your reasons?” he snapped. His restless eyes sparkled as 
the adjective sputtered from my lips. 

“ He turned tail to save his own hide. The boy was taken to save 
appearances. When Mark was in real danger, — alone on the sands 
with Burlington, — Demetrius was indecently indifferent. But when 
the doctor apprehended violent symptoms, and our friend thought that 
he might be exposed to them, why, then ” 

“ He wilted, eh ?” 

“Yes; the naked coward obtruded itself.” 

“ You don’t know him, young man.” 

“ Possibly not.” 

“ He is no coward. I have known Demetrius for thirty years, — a 
long time. I repeat, he is no coward.” 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


629 


I touched up the horses with the flick of the whip ; and the action 
betrayed me, for Gerard laughed. 

Take it coolly,” he said. Young men, nine times out of ten, 
misconstrue the motives which govern human actions. Remember 
that I have made a study, a profitable study, of my fellow-creatures.” 

“ All the same,” I said, doggedly, “ he is a coward.” 

“ That’s quite right. Stick to your colors, my boy. By the way, 
I am surprised that you should have taken Burlington to my house.” 

I could not excuse myself without accusing Nancy, so I held my 
peace. 

“ However,” he continued, thoughtfully, we have the man where 
we can watch him. You may yet earn that big salary.” 

“ I expect to,” I retorted, bluntly. I was cursing myself for speak- 
ing out so plainly. In damning the cowardice of the Greek I had 
also, by inference, damned the cowardice of my employer. My tongue, 
as usual, had outstripped my halting brain. I was still in my salad 
days and a novice in the art of dialogue. 

‘‘ I suppose,” said Gerard, carelessly, that you have fallen in love 
with Nancy.” 

The question took me so completely by surprise that my stupid face 
flushed scarlet. I began to realize that this man, whose bodily presence 
was so contemptible, was, conversationally speaking, dandling me in 
his arms. 

I don’t blame you,” continued Gerard, in his most matter-of-fact 
tones. “ She is a pretty girl, and very intelligent. It would interest 
me to know whether — er — she ” 

“ No : she doesn’t.” 

Thank you. I like to be posted. No, no : don’t frown. I dare 
swear that she will say Yes ; and you may live to wish it had been No.” 

He had dropped his tone of banter, and spoke gloomily, in sour, 
raucous accents. This man had achieved much that the world prizes. 
His keen brain and extraordinary acumen had borne him triumphant 
upon the top wave of success. Now that he had brought his heavily 
freighted vessel into safe harborage, he had leisure to read the log and 
estimate the wear and tear. I watched him as he leaned back wearily 
against the well-padded cushions of the buggy, and made a small cal- 
culation. Divide wealth, as many millions as you please, by health, 
subtract time, and what is left? Answer, the man beside me, haggard, 
wizened, prematurely gray. 

So, after all, he had seen the complication of my falling in love 
with Nancy, — had counted the probability as gain, an extra rivet to 
bind me to his service. What a puppet I had been ! 

I’m sorry the boy is from home,” he muttered. I should have 
enjoyed seeing him. Demetrius is over-cautious, — a fault on the right 
side.” 

He asked me innumerable questions about the lad, displaying his 
talent for cross-examination, and with it his remarkable love for his 
son. Mrs. Gerard, it appeared, had been kind enough to give me more 
credit than I deserved; and her husband expressed his appreciation of 
my efforts in a characteristic fashion. 


630 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


You are not giving me value received/’ he said, brusquely, ^'but 
you’ve done all I asked, and more.” 

I wondered whether Mrs. Gerard in her letters had mentioned my 
excursion into Cupid’s domain, and answered the question in the 
negative. 

I’m a generous man,” Gerard continued, with that curious inflec- 
tion in his voice which I had remarked when he had pressed upon me 
his rarest wines ; and my step-daughter — you have found out, of 
course, that she is my step-daughter — will be handsomely dowered. I 
dare say I shall give her a picture or two, — that Constable, perhaps, — 
if ” 

If ” I repeated. 

‘‘ If she marries the right fellow.” 

What, I asked myself, did he mean ? That there was meaning 
behind every word he spoke I could no longer doubt. Why did he 
remind me of a spider ? Why — humiliating reflection ! — did I com- 
pare myself to a fly ? These questions were adequately answered later. 
Our talk for the present was over. The lights of the house were in 
sight. The familiar roar of the surf became louder and louder ; and 
the dogs, a brace of handsome blood-hounds, bayed melodiously. 

‘‘By Jupiter!” said Gerard, sharply, “ that is the voice of 
Demetrius.” 

I strained my ears in vain, but a large figure loomed suddenly in 
the foreground. 

“That you, Demetrius?” my companion shouted. 

“ Yes,” came the measured response : “ it is I.” 

The Greek, however, had no intention of stating his business in 
my presence. He assisted his master to descend from the high buggy, 
and followed him respectfully into the house. I remained with the 
horses and helped the coachman, Jap Byers, an excellent fellow, to 
unhitch them — and his tongue. He chattered volubly. 

“Slimy kind o’ cuss, that ther Greek, Mr. Livingston. I’m a liar 
if he didn’t scare the puddin’ outer me.” 

“You don’t look as if you were easily scared,” said I. 

“ I ain’t,” he replied, “ that’s a fact ; but the Greek he done it. 
An’ it warn’t right, neither. Him an’ me never was frien’s. When 
he comes a-sashayin’ along as if he owned the hull earth, I aim ter 
look jest a leetle mite above his head, as if I didn’t see his royal 
highness ; an’ that mads him, an’ tickles me.” 

Jap laughed loudly. I had known for some time that he and 
Demetrius were unfriendly. 

“ So he scared you ?” 

“ Yes, sir. Ye see, he bosses it around the house, but I’m the chief 
here, an’ don’t allow no monkey business on my premises. Well, sir, 
after you left, Mary, the housemaid, come out, an’ she an’ me had a 
leetle howdy-do. She’s Danish, is Mary, an’ not one o’ yer scary ones. 
Why ” 

“ Get along with your story, Jap. I’m in a hurry.” 

“ Mary was tellin’ me about the Join’s with the gentleman as was 
hurt, an’ givin’ me the hull song an’ dance.” 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


631 


Where were you, Jap?” 

The honest fellow blushed. By the flickering light of the stable 
lantern I could see his freckled face blazing. 

“We was in the hay-mow,” he said, reluctantly. 

“Where you generally sit, eh?” 

“Yes,” he admitted, with a sheepish grin. “ Mary likes the smell 
o’ the hay.” 

“ Go on, Jap.” 

“ D’ye think,” he demanded, eagerly, “ that ther Greek was on to 
the racket o’ me an’ Mary sittin’ in the hay-mow? Gosh! I guess 
he was stuck on Mary hisself. Why, that accounts fer the milk in the 
cocoa-nut. Of course. Well, sir, when she got through tellin’ me 
how the pore feller couldn’t speak nor move, and ” 

“ She went into all those details?” 

“ Why, yes ; an’ she had it straight from Miss Nancy, too. Wimmen 
folks must talk, or they’d naterally go crazy. Well, sir, she’d got at 
last ter the end o’ the yarn, an’ I’d told her good-by, an’ was wavin’ 
her adoo as she stood in the door-way, when all of a suddent a big 
shock o’ hay comes a-tumblin’ down an’ ketches me right ’twixt wind 
an’ water. It come nigh killin’ me, an’ Mary too. Why, the girl 
’most split herself a-laflfin’. An’, Mr. Livingston,” his pleasant voice 
hardened, “ that ther Greek, damn his soul, done it.” 

I expressed my astonishment. 

“ He done it outer meanness. I never suspicioned the cuss, knowin’ 
that the hay was kinder poorly piled an’ that I’d bin keerless about 
the handlin’ of it. But jest before you druv up I happened ter start 
out fer the house, an’ then changed my mind an’ walked around the 
barn. Well, sir, as I come around that ther corner I saw the Greek, 
standin’ like a statoo on a pedestial. Where did he come from? 
Why, from the mow, o’ course. He piped me off* ter the house, an’ 
then crawled out. He must ha’ known that Danish Mary an’ I was 
frien’s, an’ he calkilated ter make an everlastin’ scarecrow outer me 
before her, — the son of a gun ! I dropped onter his racket right 
away, the second I seen him. He come there a-purpose. I’d ’a’ 
thumped him good, if it cost me this place, but the dogs begun 
barkin’, the Greek he speaks to ’em as if molasses candy wouldn’t 
melt in his mouth, an’ the next thing I knew he was talkin’ with Mr. 
Gerard. But, cuss him. I’ll git even.” 

“ But, Jap, how do you know he was really in the mow ?” 

“ Why, sir, when I come up with the lantern I see the hay-seed 
and sticker-grass on his coat.” 

I bade Mr. Byers good-night, and walked thoughtfully to the 
house. My deductions in regard to this aff*air difiTered materially from 
those of honest Jap. I could not believe that Demetrius had wilfully 
set rolling the shock of hay. If he had concealed himself in the barn 
for some specific purpose, would he court detection for the sake of 
playing a prank or to gratify a personal spite? Hardly. The hay, 
badly piled and undermined, had obeyed the laws of gravitation. 
Possibly in the ardors of eavesdropping the Greek had displaced the 
shock unwittingly. He had studied the habits of Jap and his “ best 


032 IMPENDING SWORD. 

girl/^ and, wishing to learn the exact condition of affairs in the house, 
had turned his knowledge of sociology to good account. Very slimy, 
as Jap observed. An Anglo-Saxon blessed with the Greek’s upbring- 
ing would have scouted such methods, but the secretive nature of 
Demetrius, stimulated by terror of Burlington, accounted satisfactorily 
for everything. The fellow was an out-and-out poltroon. 

Mark Gerard dined alone with Nancy and me. He was in no 
mood to talk, and gulped down his dinner in gloomy silence. Since 
we parted in the stable-yard his manner had entirely changed. From 
his gestures rather than from his words I inferred that he was intensely 
nervous (I laid this to the charge of Demetrius), and unduly irritable. 
Nancy, too, seemed depressed and abstracted. She replied in mono- 
syllables to my few questions. 

Nancy, go to your mother,” said Gerard, as the coffee was brought 
in. I wish to talk with Mr. Livingston.” 

We pushed our chairs from the table and lighted cigars. 

Demetrius,” said Gerard, is not a coward.” 

I merely bowed, having resolved, for the future, to curb my 
tongue. 

‘‘ He proposes,” Gerard spoke slowly, watching me narrowly 
between half-closed eyes, — he proposes to take entire charge of — of 
this madman. You ” 

He rolled up carefully the loosened wrapper of his cigar, and I, 
chafing at the delay, forgot my good resolutions and blurted out, — 

What disposition does he make of me?” 

Pshaw !” said Gerard, frowning ; what a hot-head it is ! I,” — 

he emphasized the pronoun (’twas an effective trick of his), — I, my 
lad, have pleasanter work for you. I shall send my family to Europe 
at once in your charge. Mrs. Gerard needs complete change ; the boy 
must see something of the world ; and Nancy, of course, will be 
counted in. What do you think of my plan ?” 

Your plan,” I said, dryly, takes me by surprise. ” 

Surprise — the word but feebly expresses the condition of my feel- 
ings. Had Demetrius dared to make this suggestion, in the teeth of 
what had occurred in the cave? And if so, in the name of the 
Sphinx, to what purpose, knowing, as he must know, that I should 
refuse to become a party to his infamous schemes? Was master in 
collusion with man? No. I couldn’t believe that. What then? 
The scoundrel was a consummate judge of character, and he had had 
abundant opportunity to study the idiosyncrasies of Hugo Livingston. 
He probably counted upon my promise of secrecy, and — by Jupiter ! 
the truth flashed upon me — counted further upon my opposition, and 
my subsequent dismissal from the service of Gerard. I would try and 
balk him. 

If Demetrius,” said I, lightly, is in the house, I should like to 
talk this over with him.” 

Demetrius returned at once to Mark.” 

How far is it to the island ?” I asked. 

‘‘ Not more than two miles.” 

I rose to my feet. 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 633 

Mr. Gerard, I must see Demetrius to-night. Within two hours 
you shall have your answer.” 

He nodded and puffed at his cigar. 

As you please,” he said, indifferently. 

The immortal Lincoln said that you could fool a part of the people 
all the time, and all the people part of the time, but that no man could 
fool all the people all the time. 

In considering the relations which existed between Mark Gerard 
and the Greek, this piece of wisdom bubbled up out of my memory 
and lent an agreeable effervescence to my reflections. Gerard was a 
brilliant man in his way, but I had come to the conclusion that Deme- 
trius was the stronger, mentally, of the two, and exercised a potent 
influence upon his master. I still clung to my theory in regard to the 
Greek’s cowardice; otherwise I should hardly have trusted myself 
alone with him. He had no intention, I was convinced, of meeting 
or nursing Burlington. He was fooling Gerard. He should not, I 
decided, fool Hugo Livingston. 

The night was perfect, an idyllic night for lovers. The moon 
lolled lazily in the sapphire heavens. The air was soft and odorous, 
languid with the perfume of a million flowers. And the voice of 
Spring whispered her old, old story. 

“ Where are you going ?” 

It was Nancy. She flitted towards me, a slender. Naiad-like figure, 
illumined by the silvery beams. 

“ Who would not wish to be abroad such a night as this. Miss 
Nancy ? I’m off for a walk.” 

“I’ll go with you,” she replied. “Mamma is asleep, and my 
father” — her voice hardened — “ doesn’t want me.” 

I hesitated. 

“ If you don’t want me, too ” 

My scruples fled. 

“ I’m going to the island. Miss Nancy. Perhaps you would like 
to see Mark.” 

She made no reply, and we started, side by side, not a yard between 
us. In silence we paced down the path to the sea and descended the 
steps which led to the sands. I forgot Demetrius, forgot the nature 
of my errand, forgot prudence, forgot everything save the one intoxi- 
cating fact that I was walking alone, beneath the stars, with the woman 
I loved. But what I forgot Nancy bore in mind. 

“Mr. Livingston,” she said, in confidential tones, “I have watched 
for this opportunity. I want to ask you what I have not the heart to 
ask mamma, and what I won’t ask my father.” 

“ Is it something I can answer ?” 

“ I think so.” 

“ Is it something I ought to answer, Miss Nancy ?” 

“ If you have my welfare at heart,” she whispered, softly, “ you 
will tell me the truth — all the truth — about this mysterious affair. 
Hitherto, Mr. Livingston, I’ve taken persons and things as I found 
them. Effects have interested me rather than causes. There is father. 


634 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


for instance, who has lived apart from us all these years. I accepted 
that without inquiry, but now it seems odd. Where was the necessity ? 
The reason, the cause, must be a strong one. Then, again, there is 
this mad socialist. What is he doing at large? And what is the 
nature of his grudge against us? I don’t ask these questions out of 
idle curiosity.” 

These questions. Miss Nancy, I cannot answer.” 

‘‘You cannot? — or you will not?” 

She spoke impatiently. I hesitated. What should I say ? 

“I’m old enough to know these secrets, if secrets they be, and 
strong enough to share my mother’s burdens. Poor dear mamma ! 
how old she looked to-night !” 

“ You can lighten your mother’s burdens very materially by not 
attempting to shoulder them.” 

We paced on together, but Nancy had moved farther from me, as 
if repelled by my discretion. When she spoke, her voice had lost its 
warmth. 

“ I shall not bother you again,” said she. 

The fiend tempted me to reply. 

“ My own secrets. Miss Nancy, I would share with you willingly. 
One of them you surprised this morning.” 

I could not possibly have selected a less opportune time for such a 
bald statement. Truly, when love enters men’s hearts their wits often 
leave their heads. 

Nancy, with a woman’s consideration, pointed out a loophole of 
escape. 

“ Mr. Livingston, is the tide coming in or going out ?” 

But my blood was up, and the fever of spring in my veins. 

“ Hang the tide !” I replied. “ The tide of my life is setting 
towards you so strongly that I can stem it no longer. Nancy, sweet 
Nancy, I love you !” 

A tremulous sigh escaped her lips. 

“ I love you !” I repeated, with a lover’s foolish iteration. “ I 
love you !” 


CHAPTER VII. 

This premature declaration of feelings which I had sworn to my- 
self to suppress was brought about partly by the spring fever aforesaid, 
partly by a youthful and excitable temperament, and partly by the 
encouraging words of Mark Gerard that same afternoon. Upon his 
own confession he had anticipated some such explosion ; and I was not 
the man to balk his fancy. 

“ I thought,” my companion faltered, “ that you were in love with 
another woman, — the goddess?” 

“ You are the goddess,” I said, fervently. “ And I began to wor- 
ship at your shrine the very moment we met.” 

“Oh!” 

“ You seem surprised. If you had fallen in love with me, Nancy, 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


635 


that would indeed have been surprising; but that I should fall in love 
with you is the most natural thing in the world/^ 

You must fall out of it again,” she answered, gravely. 

“Never !” 

“ Mr. Livingston, I say you must. Please don’t be ridiculous.” 

“ I can’t help it,” I replied. “ You would make a graven image 
love-sick.” 

“ And we were such good friends,” she murmured. 

“ I don’t want to press you ” I continued. 

“I should hope not,” she returned, her absurd sense of the ludi- 
crous uppermost as usual. “ Mr. Livingston, I’ll try and forget this 
— this indiscretion. I’ve no love to give you. It’s better to be 
frank, isn’t it? Don’t frown, and don’t sulk. You are such a nice 
boy.” 

“Boy!” I ejaculated. “I am twenty-six. Do you know that 
Valerius Corvus was consul at twenty-three. Boy, indeed !” 

“ You provoke me, Mr. Livingston. Let’s suppose for an instant 
that I could return this love of yours : are you in a position to support 
a wife ?” 

“ I swear I could support a dozen — upon the terms you mention. 
Your love would spur me to Titanic efforts.” 

She laughed outright. And I lost my temper. 

“ If you look at this from a dollars and cents point of view. Miss 
Gerard, I have nothing more to say.” 

“That is spoken like a man,” she said, mockingly. Truly, the 
fiend of mischief possessed her. 

“Nancy,” I cried, cut to the quick by her scornful words, “why 
are you so cruel ? Is a man’s love so small a thing, that you can afford 
to fling it aside?” 

Her mood suddenly changed, and, halting, she confronted me with 
flashing eyes. 

“ For your sake,” she said, with dignity, “ I made light of your 
love. We are here together, living in the same house, meeting a dozen 
times a day. I did my best to patch up the woof of our friendship, 
but you have chosen to burst the stitches. I tried to spare you, and a 
man of tact would have appreciated my effort. I have no love to give 
you, Mr. Livingston, because — because my life is already pledged to 
another. I pity you from the bottom of my heart. Good-night.” 

She walked swiftly away, leaving me abashed and speechless. 

“ Hugo,” I murmured, softly, “you are a fool.” 

Having registered myself among the vast majority of my fellows, 
I trudged moodily towards the island. My thoughts followed Nancy, 
but my footsteps pointed in the opposite direction, — a fact which fur- 
nished me with meat for reflection. Was I destined to love this fair 
woman and leave her? Morally and intellectually Nancy had become 
the magnet which swayed my faculties; what if my wretched body 
were constrained to bear me henceforward from — not to — her ? 

Chewing this bitter cud, I rapidly approached the island. Already 
I had come to the margin of the lake. Encircled with tuks and bul- 
rushes, it gleamed cold and placid in the moonshine. In the winter 


636 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


its surface was covered with wild fowl, — geese, ducks, aud occasional 
swans. To-night not a living creature met my eye. Solitude reigned 
supreme. 

Skirting the tules., I came to a point of land so near to the island 
that a stone might be thrown from one to the other; and across the 
channel I noted a boat moored to a post, and a light twinkling in the 
window of the hut. To attract the notice of the Greek I shouted — 
louder than Stentor — thrice. At the third shout the door of the hut 
opened, and I could see plainly the huge body of Demetrius filling 
the entrance and outlined sharply against the background of light. 

Who is it ?’’ His bass voice rolled sonorously across the water. 

I, — Hugo Livingston.’’ 

He turned and entered the hut, shutting the door. For a moment 
I suspected that he meant to ignore my presence ; but I was mistaken. 
He appeared again almost immediately and walked slowly towards the 
boat. A minute later he was by my side. 

“ Good-evening,” he said, tranquilly. 

‘‘I came here,” I began, bluntly, ‘‘to tell you that I am not the 
fool you take me for. You can impose upon Mr. Gerard, but not upon 
me. I saved you, only yesterday, from committing a dastardly murder.” 

“ I’m not ungrateful,” he returned, softly. 

“ What lies between you and Burlington is unknown to me. A 
furious personal hate upon both sides, I suspect, — a hate which the 
facts hardly warrant. Mr. Gerard has suffered torment at the hands 
of his enemy, but you are merely a paid servant.” I spoke harshly, 
aflame with repugnance. Demetrius listened to my words in respectful 
silence. “ I say you are a servant, but you are usurping the functions 
of a master. How dare you lay a trap for me ?” 

“ A trap ?” he repeated. “ I have laid no trap, sir.” 

“ You lie !” 

He displayed no resentment. I thought — it may have been fancy 
— that a smile hovered upon his lips. 

“You lie,” I repeated, “Demetrius, as glibly as honest men speak 
the truth. You pandered to your master’s fears, and urged him to 
send his family to Europe with me, knowing that I should refuse to 
leave Burlington at your mercy, the mercy of a coward.” 

He spread out his hands with a deprecating gesture. 

“ Mr. Livingston, I swear that you do me an injustice. I agreed to 
stay here and watch this madman, but I had no intention of arousing 
his fury by going near him. The doctor and a competent nurse have 
him in charge. I suggested to Mr. Gerard that you should take Mark 
to Europe because you know Europe and because you can teach the 
boy what I cannot.” 

“ Yes, — honesty,” I said, with emphasis. 

“ What happened yesterday, Mr. Livingston, justifies these taunts. 
I’ve served Mr. Gerard faithfully, — he saved me from starvation, or a 
worse fate, — and, seeing his relentless enemy at last in my power, I — 
I lost my head. You saved me, as you say, from the crime of murder, 
and from the bottom of my heart I thank you.” 

His extraordinary fluency of speech took me aback. Anglo-Saxons, 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 637 

as a rule, express themselves so unreadily that a freely flowing diction 
almost bewilders. 

Keep your thanks till I ask for them. I promised to hold my 
tongue about what occurred in the cave, but your action to-night ab- 
solves me from that promise. Before I go to bed Mr. Gerard shall be 
placed in possession of the facts. We will see, then, what he will say.” 

In the moonlight I could see his lips whiten and quiver. I noted 
these signs of distress with much satisfaction. They proclaimed the 
absence of collusion between the Greek and Gerard. 

For God’s sake, sir, don’t tell him that.” 

You’ve left me no choice in the matter.” 

He began to urge me to keep silence, employing such arguments as 
his prolific brain afforded. When he had exhausted these I shook my 
head. 

Will you think this over, sir?” he pleaded. Sleep upon it, and 
remember that five-and-twenty years of faithful service are at stake.” 

“Very well,” I replied. “I’ll think it over. As for sleep, I 
watch to-night in Burlington’s room. There will be no sleep for me.” 

He thanked me for the twelve hours’ grace, but I cut him short. 

“ Mr. Livingston, pardon me, but are you not afraid of being 
alone with that madman? His injuries are not so severe as ” 

“As you could wish, Demetrius. Best assured, my friend, that 
the prospect of spending the night with Mr. Burlington does not scare 
me at all. I don’t think he could move if he tried. And, in any 
case, I’m stronger than he.” 

“ Yes,” he answered, quietly, scanning me from head to heel, “you 
are a powerful young man ; but in a fight the victory does not always 
rest with the strongest. I wish, sir, you could trust me. My friend- 
ship is worth having. Give me your word, Mr. Livingston, that you 
will not smirch my character, and make me your friend for life.” 

The oily smoothness of his tones disgusted me, and I answered, 
roughly, — 

“ Your friendship, Demetrius, has no value in my eyes. And I 
tell you frankly that one night will make no breach in my determina- 
tion. As sure as I’m standing here I shall tell Mr. Gerard the truth 
the very first thing to-morrow morning.” 

“ So be it,” he answered, sullenly. 

I watched him as he strode to the boat, a stately figure, but a per- 
sonality that aroused in me nothing but distrust and aversion. He 
untied the painter, pushed off from the shore, pulled across the narrow 
channel, made fast the boat to the post, and entered the house. Then 
I swung upon my heel and walked rapidly away. 

Mark Gerard, I found, had not left the dining-room. He had sat 
there smoking cigar after cigar, and the air was heavy with the fumes 
of his strong perfectos. The contrast between the salt breeze from the 
ocean and the overpowering atmosphere of that close dining-room was 
no more salient, perhaps, than the difference between the Hugo Liv- 
ingston of a week ago and the tired, distracted individual of to-day. 
I accepted a cigar, in self-defence, and a chair. 


638 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


Well, my friend, youVe seen Demetrius?’’ 

‘‘Yes.” 

“ He’s not quite the coward you thought, eh ? I told you — didn’t 
I.? — that I was a coward myself, and I can recognize the symptoms 
in others. Demetrius does not know the meaning of the word 
fear.” 

“ That remains to be proved.” 

“Just so. Will you give him the chance, and take my people to 
Europe ? Place as many miles between this devil and Mark as you 
can. I should think you’d jump at such an opportunity.” 

“ You are very generous, sir.” 

“ Of course I am. I like you, Hugo. I recognize in you the 
qualities which I lack myself, — strength, courage, inflexibility. So 
it’s settled, eh ?” 

“ I’m at your service, Mr. Gerard.” 

“ And I can use you to the best advantage. I like to use men. 
And I pay them handsomely. There is Demetrius.” 

“ He must have grown rich in your service ; and yet ” 

“ Speak out. And yet — what ?” 

“ He has brains,” I said, “ and he might have aspired to be some- 
thing more than your mere servant.” 

“ He aspired, once, to be my partner. Lucky for him that I chose 
another man.” 

I waited, and the explanation came, between puffs of smoke : 

“ I educated Demetrius to assist me in my business. I was not 
thirty when I found him running barefoot in New York ; but I recog- 
nized at once in him those qualities and faculties which, properly 
trained, bring a man to the front. But Demetrius proved too smart, 
much to my disappointment, and I had to show him his place. We 
were at Black Gulch then ; and I was engaged in the most extensive 
mining operations. Demetrius was my right bower, but he continually 
overstepped instructions. He thought he knew it all — eh? Well, I 
had to have a partner ; a man whom I could talk to and control ; a 
conservative man, who would furnish the motive power, the running 
here and there, and let me do the planning in peace. Such a fellow 
was right to my hand, — poor Ferdinand Perkins. It must have been 
a heavy disappointment to Demetrius, but he stood it like a Trojan. 
Then came the murder of Perkins, and what followed. Demetrius 
himself applied for his present post, which he has kept. As you say, 
he’s a rich man. He has no kick coming.” 

I glanced at my watch and rose. 

“ I sit with Burlington to-night, Mr. Gerard.” 

“ Yes, yes.” He winced at the man’s name. “ I don’t envy you. 
Well, I’ll go to bed. To-morrow I shall spend with Mark.” 

His softened tones as he finished the sentence provoked the ex- 
clamation, — 

“ You’re a devoted father, Mr. Gerard.” 

He sighed. 

“ I live again, Hugo, in the person of my child. I’ve had a hard 
life, — plenty of shadow, lad, and little sunshine. I’ve peeped into 


IMPENDING SWORD. 


639 


most things and found them hollow. Even my love for Mark, as 
you know, has been my greatest joy and my greatest misery. Good- 
night.’’ 

I pitied him profoundly as I walked up-stairs. Community of 
suffering, according to George Eliot, is the root of pity ; and, smarting 
beneath the knowledge that Nancy could never be mine, realizing that 
life without her would prove saltless and sterile, I could put myself 
in the place of Mark Gerard and say with him, All is vanity. 

What a paradox the man was ! What a bundle of contrasts ! He 
possessed in many material respects a mind of the largest scope — and 
also of the smallest, — a mind at once of the finest and coarsest texture. 
His financial combinations had gained him an international reputation. 
He was known as one of the pluckiest bulls in the stock ring. He 
had the tenderest affection for his son. But I knew him to be a 
sensualist and a poltroon. Perhaps he had the moral equipment 
which in these latter days proves the shield of success, the aegis 
against which the slings and arrows of a debauched and unscrupulous 
press rattle in vain. 

The professional nurse assured me that the patient had rested 
easily and had taken a surprising amount of nourishment. The slight 
symptoms of fever had passed away, and the application of the lini- 
ments caused less pain. He lay upon his back, eyes and mouth 
closed, senseless, apparently, to the outer world. I received careful 
instructions as to diet and massage, and then the nurse left me. 

The room was the one usually occupied by Demetrius. It had 
two doors and a window. One door communicated with the passage, 
and the other with Mark’s bedroom, now vacant. Here, the nurse 
told me, I should find coffee and light refreshments. A drawn portiere 
hung between the rooms, but the door was open, and a lamp burned 
brightly upon Mark’s table, furnishing sufficient light for the room 
beyond, where Burlington lay. The nurse warned me to leave this 
lamp where it was : too much light, he said, was bad for his patient. 

I took my seat by the head of the bed, with my back to the por- 
tiere and facing the window. The lower sash was up, and I could see 
and hear the ocean. I mention these details as briefly as possible, but 
they are important, as the sequel will prove. 

For an hour at least I watched Burlington’s impassive features. I 
am no physiognomist, but, unless my experience was entirely at fault, 
this man had the head of neither a criminal nor a maniac. The brows 
were narrow but lofty ; the mouth was beautifully modelled, but dis- 
figured by deep lines running from nostril to jaw-bone. His hands 
were the next to attract my attention, and again I marvelled at the 
« curious concatenation of circumstances which had warped a nature 
unquestionably designed for good rather than evil purposes. Perhaps 
the fact that Nancy’s father was the object of my examination per- 
verted my judgment ; but sitting there in the dimly-lit room, with the 
lullaby of the Pacific in my ears, I came to the amazing conclusion 
that Burlington was guiltless of the murder of Perkins, that his wife 
had been the victim of circumstantial evidence, that Gerard had fallen 


610 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


a prey to his natural pusillanimity. Then I suddenly bethought me 
of the telegrams, and my imagination wilted. 

As my eyes still rested upon the sinewy hands with their strong 
spatulate fingers, Burlington addressed me by name. His voice was 
much stronger, and the intonation clear, indicating an unclouded brain. 

Are we alone he asked, not moving his head. 

Yes,^^ said I ; but don’t talk.” 

“ I must,” he replied, impatiently. I’ve focussed all my strength 
for that very purpose. I want to see Mrs. Gerard to-morrow.” 

He was certainly mad, I decided, and must be humored. 

“ Yes, yes,” I murmured, soothingly, of course you shall see Mrs. 
Gerard.” 

‘‘ I don’t know what the devil you mean by ‘ of course,’ ” he said, 
irritably. ‘‘ There are serious difficulties in the way. She was once 
my wife, the very light of my eyes. And she left me, — me,” I noted 
the accent of pride, — “ for that slave of Plutus, Mark Gerard. I let 
her go, damn her, without a word. But she is not anxious to see me 
again, I’ll warrant.” 

I was too astonished to reply. 

I may have to employ you,” he continued, calmly, as a go- 
between. Mark Gerard is welcome to my wife, but the girl is mine, 
and I want her.” 

Nancy ?” I gasped. 

‘‘Is that her name?” said he. “Yes, she’s mine. I claim the 
girl.” 

He spoke so calmly, so sanely, that I forgot my duty as nurse, and 
spoke out impulsively : 

“ You claim that girl, knowing the reason which drove her mother 
from your house?” 

“ Do you know the reason, Livingston ?” 

“Ido.” 

“Then, in the name of God, share that knowledge with me. 
Heavens ! how my head reels !” 

I tried in vain to calm him, but he demanded imperatively an 
answer to his appeal. 

“Why did she leave me?” he repeated. “I made her a good 
husband. I dare say I was jealous of other men, — Gerard in par- 
ticular, — but that was a proof of love. I worked like a slave for 
that woman, — worked till my health broke down, and then, just when 
I needed her most, she deserted me. The girl was born months after 
that, and I supposed she was the child of Gerard. To-day — this 
morning — I opened my eyes and saw my face stamped upon hers. She 
is a Burlington all over. I swear it. How dared that woman rob me 
of my child ? I’ve lain here, Livingston, all this day, eating what they 
gave me, submitting to that awful rubbing, praying, ay, praying for 
strength to recover and claim my child.” 

“And Perkins?” I whispered. 

His eyes met mine with the inquiring glance of a puzzled child. 

“Perkins?” he muttered. “Ferdinand Perkins? The Greek 
murdered him. I know it. Don’t let that man come near me. He’s 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


641 


my enemy, I tell you, my bitter enemy ! But what has Perkins to do 
with me ? Are you crazy ? Curse that dog ! My head is splitting.” 

The blood-hound was baying furiously, but suddenly ceased. A 
skunk, probably, skirting the barn, had provoked liis resentment. 

Not daring to pursue the subject further, I bathed Burlington’s head, 
but to no purpose. The pain waxed fiercer and fiercer, till the man 
positively quivered beneath my touch. The doctor, foreseeing such a 
contingency, had sent a composing draught, with instructions. I hastily 
administered a full dose, and watched it take effect. Burlington, be- 
neath the influence of the drug, closed his eyes, and within five minutes 
was peacefully asleep. I resumed my place by his side, and tried to 
muster my rampant thoughts, ^olus wrestling with his turbulent 
winds had a lighter task. 

Outside, the moon and stars were obscured by fog, which had rolled 
in from the ocean, thick and dank with the spume of the sea, blotting 
from my view the shimmering waters, and banishing the grateful breeze. 
One might scarcely believe that one short hour ago the prospect had 
been clear, — that with the morning sun these clouds, so clammily op- 
pressive, would be once more swept away. 

Suddenly my ear caught the sound of a footstep, and I sprang 
from my chair with a muttered exclamation. Some one was in the 
next room ! 

At that moment the lamp was extinguished, and I found myself 
in bewildering darkness. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

The brain, if sound, performs its functions more quickly in mo- 
ments of danger than at any other time, discarding the consideration 
of side-issues, and obeying blindly the instinct of self-preservation. 

It flashed across me instantly that I was in deadly peril at the hands 
of the man whom I had accused of cowardice, — Demetrius. He alone 
had access to the house : he alone could quiet Sultan, the blood-hound : 
he alone had good reason to fear not only Burlington, but Hugo Living- 
ston. Mark Gerard, I could no longer doubt, was the victim of a 
deep-laid plot, — a plot which already had wrecked three lives, and 
which was destined, perhaps, to destroy my own. If the Greek, in- 
flamed with hellish ambition, had slain poor Perkins, he was capable 
of repeating the tragedy of Red Gulch here, in this bedroom. Ob- 
viously his plan was to kill both Burlington and me, and in such a 
manner that it would be supposed we had killed each other. 

This conviction asserted itself as I awaited in breathless silence the 
attack of the Greek. I had dropped upon one knee between the door 
and the bed, and in my right hand was the small pistol which I always 
carried on my person. But a pistol is the least efficient weapon in such 
a fight as this. What would I have given for a double-barrelled shot- 
gun, a good sabre, or a knife ! If I fired in the dark, the flash of the 
powder would prove a death-warrant ; the same grim logic applied to 
the striking of a match. I was satisfied that such a master-scoundrel 
VoL. LVII.— 41 


642 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


as Demetrius had laid his plans with extraordinary sagacity. He was 
taking desperate chances, but the crisis justified them. These rooms 
were cut off from the rest of the house, and nothing short of a pistol- 
shot would arouse Gerard and the servants. Demetrius must have 
counted upon the moon as an ally. From the darkness of Mark’s room 
he might have approached me unseen and unheard, and then — a bold 
thrust of a knife would rid him of the man who had dared to unmask 
his villany. But the fickle moon had played him false. He probably, 
like me, was now upon the defensive. Who would move first ? 

I finally decided to take the initiative ; for the suspense was in- 
tolerable. Demetrius, I reflected, was stiff in the joints, his muscles 
less supple than mine, his sense of hearing less acute. Youth was on 
my side, experience on his. The two players in the game were at least 
fairly matched. 

Had it not been for Burlington, I could have easily escaped by the 
window and alarmed the household ; but I dared not leave my patient. 
His somewhat stertorous breathing was the only sound which broke 
the silence. If I were killed or injured, he was at the mercy of the 
Greek. 

I confess that a certain exhilaration possessed me as I crawled into 
Mark’s room, and a sense that I was acting wisely braced my nerves. 
The Greek could beat me hollow when it came to scheming, but in a 
rough-and-tumble contest I confidently expected to get the best of 
him. As soon as I determined his whereabouts, I decided to rush the 
ruffian, and, if possible, strike the first (so often the last) blow. 

But the unexpected, that element in human affairs which we in- 
variably ignore, ruled otherwise. I had hardly crossed the threshold 
of the inner room when I heard a heavy footfall in the passage. At 
the same moment the voice of Jap Byers, calling me by name, echoed 
gruffly through the darkness, while a gleam of light pierced the gloom. 
As the door was flung open, revealing the thick-set figure of the 
coachman, lantern in hand, a crash of glass to my right set my nerves 
tingling. Demetrius had leaped through the window, glissaded down 
the roof of the veranda, and was already lost to sight. Jap and I 
confronted each other, our mouths agape, our eyes starting from our 
heads. 

If this ain’t a picnic,” said Jap, what is it?” 

‘^Attempted murder, Jap. You arrived in the nick of time.” 

‘‘I heard that ther hound a-bayin’, Mr. Livingston, an’ I sus- 
picioned that somethin’ — a coon, maybe — was stirrin’. Well, sir, old 
Sultan wasn’t givin’ tongue fer nothin’ ; fer the next thing I knowed, 
there was that Greek sarpint a-crawlin’ around the house. Thinks I, 
I’ll watch you, mister, an’ maybe take a hand myself in this yere 
game. I piped him off as he unlocked the back door, and then I saw, 
not five minutes ago, the light in Mr. Burlington’s room go out. 
Gosh ! I done some tall thinkin’ right then. I dassn’t cry out, 
’cause that ’d ha’ given the hull snap dead away. So I fetched the 
lantern, sashayed across the yard, and tried the door. It was un- 
locked, and then — why, then I jest follered my big nose till it led me 
here.” 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


643 


“ How much time do you say elapsed between the putting out of 
the light and your appearance in this room 

“ Three minutes, maybe. Not more.^’ 

Good heavens ! And it had seemed to me three hours ! 

Motioning to Jap to remain where he was, I hurriedly entered the 
front room and glanced at Burlington. He was sleeping calmly. 

“Jap,” said I, softly, “something must be done.” 

“ That’s right,” said he. “ Let’s do it.” 

“ You stay with Mr. Burlington. I must see your master at 
once.” 

Gerard occupied Nancy’s room, who was sleeping with her mother. 
In less than five minutes I had recited the facts. He listened atten- 
tively, his glittering eyes bent sternly upon mine ; that he fully assim- 
ilated my amazing narrative I could not doubt. 

“Demetrius,” I said, in conclusion, “murdered Ferdinand Per- 
kins, partly from jealous rage, partly to pave the way for his own 
advancement. Everything else follows in natural sequence. He alone 
knew that Perkins, not you, would be left that fatal night ; he was in 
possession of your cipher ; he took advantage of your love for Mrs. 
Burlington to render you a service which he thought half your fortune 
would scarcely repay ; he, with devilish cleverness, played upon the 
feelings of a nervous woman and hounded her to your arms ; he made 
capital out of your shattered nerves ; he ” 

“ Enough,” said Gerard, hoarsely ; “ I am satisfied. My God ! 
how cruelly that fiend has used me ! And — ” his voice failed — “ and 
my little Mark is in his bloody hands ! Come ! not a second is to be 
lost.” 

He flung his clothes upon his lanky person, and sputtered out his 
fears. Demetrius, he felt assured, would hasten to the island, hold 
Mark as a hostage, and make what terms he pleased. I saw the force 
of this reasoning. As he said, not a moment was to be wasted. 

“ Mr. Gerard,” said I, “ you must stay here. Let me act for you. 
I shall take Jap with me, and you can rely upon my mother-wit to 
rescue Mark and bring Demetrius to the gallows. You are not ” 

“ Hugo,” he rejoined, impressively, “ you think I am a coward, 
not fit for such a desperate adventure as this will prove. My lad, 
Fate plays queer tricks with us. That night at Bed Gulch paralyzed 
my nerves. This night’s work has undone the mischief. I’m ready, 
by Jupiter, to encounter that monster single-handed. And, Hugo, I 
mistrust that hot head of yours. My child’s life is at stake. Deme- 
trius is desperate. If it comes to choosing between Mark’s life and 
the capture of the Greek, how could I hesitate? You might precipi- 
tate more bloodshed. God knows there has been enough. Come.” 

A few minutes later we were on our way, Gerard walking with 
feverish strides ahead. The nurse was left with Burlington. 

“ Je-roosalem !” whispered Jap to me, “ye’ll let me have one crack 
at the son of a gun, Mr. Livingston, won’t ye, now?” 

“ I want more than one myself, Jap. But I’ll try and remember 
you.” 

Gerard urged us continually to mend our pace. He carried a rifle, 


644 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


— a catapult would have served him as well, — and muttered to himself 
as he stumbled through the darkness. Jap and I were well armed, — 
to the teeth, as the dime novels have it, — and Jap carried his lantern. 

I had formulated in my own mind a plan which I dared not share 
with Mark Gerard. Left to himself, I foresaw that he would sacrifice 
justice to his love for the boy, — that the Greek would go scot-free, to 
enjoy his ill-gotten gains. And such a thought was exasperating. 
Taking advantage, therefore, of my patron’s long strides, I dropped to 
the rear and submitted my scheme to the worthy Jap. He was good 
enough to approve it mightily, and eagerly proffered his assistance. 

“ If we don’t corral the cuss, Mr. Livingston, I swear I’ll — I’ll 
never be able ter kiss Danish Mary again — and enj’y it.” 

I told him to be of good cheer and to carry out my instructions to 
the letter. 

Before we crossed the low sand-dunes which lay between the 
marshes and the sea, Jap extinguished the lantern, and we held a brief 
council of war. It was decided to treat with the enemy under friendly 
cover of the fog, the whitest and largest of flags of truce. 

It would be wise,” said I, to advance in open order. The hut 
is provided with a large-bore duck-gun, and a charge of swan-shot 
might excite a panic.” 

“ I’ll take the centre,” said Gerard, ‘^and do the talking.” 

‘‘ I’ll take the left,” said Jap, an’ do the cussin’.” 

And I’ll take the right,” said I, ‘‘ and keep my mouth shut.” 

The fog was now so thick that an object a dozen yards away could 
not be seen at all. 

‘^The first thing to determine is whether the Greek is here,” 
observed Gerard. “ Are you ready ? Then — march !” 

Our commander-in-chief halted at the identical spot where I had 
stood a few hours before, and I heard him sigh heavily as he realized 
that the boat was on the wrong side of the channel. The Greek had 
returned. 

Demetrius,” he yelled, shrilly, “ come out.” 

I am here,” was the instant reply. 

I waited for no more, but ran noiselessly some fifty yards to the 
right. It was bitterly cold, but I stripped off* coat, waistcoat, and 
boots. Then, holding my gun in my left hand, I pushed through the 
tules and entered the icy water. The channel was deep, and, at the 
place I had selected, broad. A swim was inevitable. 

When I reached the island I removed my dripping underclothes 
and stole forward, naked as an Indian. I feared that the swish of wet 
cloth might betray my approach, and, besides, the clinging garments 
might impede the free use of my limbs. Demetrius must be taken, if 
possible, alive, and I decided to leave the gun within reach and to 
trust to my muscles and a knife which I thrust between my teeth. 

What passed between master and man while I was executing these 
manoeuvres I learned subsequently. Demetrius, as we had expected, 
submitted a cut-and-dried proposition, worthy, I must admit, of his 
subtle brain. 

He denied nothing, and conceded nothing, but his conditions im- 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


645 


plied admission of guilt. Briefly, they were as follows. Gerard and 
his party were to return to the house and stay there. He and Mark 
would take the morning train to the city. There, in San Francisco, 
he would leave the boy at some hotel — he naturally did not specify the 
hotel — and go his way. If — he laid great emphasis upon the con- 
junction — if any treachery were attempted, by telegraphic communi- 
cation with the police, or otherwise, he swore solemnly to kill the boy 
instantly. He would use his own judgment as to when and where he 
would part company with Mark, and he demanded in addition a 
solemn pledge from Gerard that he, Demetrius, should be given plen- 
ary absolution for his misdeeds up to date. 

Gerard, knowing the nature of the man, and trembling with appre- 
hension for the safety of his darling, was about to accede to these 
impudent demands as I crawled within earshot. 

Let me have the boy now,” he pleaded. 

Demetrius laughed. The scoundrel could twist the famous financier 
around his little finger, as a man twists a ring; and the occupation 
amused him. 

“ Mr. Gerard,” — he was never more studiously polite, — Mr. 
Gerard, I am not a fool. You know that, sir.” 

Where is Mark ?” panted the father. 

“Asleep. Shall I wake him?” 

“ Put him in the boat, and you can go — where you will.” 

“You speak for yourself, Mr. Gerard; but there are others, who 
are — -er — interested in me. There is that very lucky young man, Mr. 
Hugo Livingston. Where is he, by the bye?” 

“ Here, you damned scoundrel,” said I, “ here.” 

I hdd him by the throat as I spoke, and a second later caught the 
strangle hold on him, — the hold which made Evan Lewis famous as 
a wrestler. He writhed and twisted ; but the hold can never be broken 
between men of equal strength. Before a minute had passed he was 
limp as a rag doll. I gave his windpipe a last squeeze and flung him 
senseless to the ground. The fight was over. 

Meantime Jap and Gerard — the latter could not swim — had plunged 
into the slough, and, the water reaching only to their necks, had landed 
safely upon the island. 

Gerard rushed to the hut, but Jap remained with me. The Greek 
lay, an inert mass, at my feet. 

“ YouVe had all the fun,” said Jap, reproachfully. “ But IM like, 
sir, to tie him up good an’ fast.” 

“ We’ve no ropes,” I replied. The question of securing Demetrius 
had already perplexed me. 

“ There are ropes in the hut,” said Jap. “ I’ll get ’em.” 

“Bring a light,” I called after him, “and be quick about it.” 

I could hear the voices of father and son, the breathless explana- 
tions and boyish ejaculations of surprise. Mark junior had the warmest 
affection for the Greek, who, as I have said before, had acquired a 
dominating influence over the lad. Obviously, Demetrius had counted 
upon capturing the gosling as well as the gander. 

Jap soon rejoined me with lantern and a coil of bale-rope. 


646 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


Can you truss him properly 

Can I ? You leave the cuss to me, sir/’ 

Finally, tied hand and foot and still unconscious, we carried De- 
metrius to the hut and propped him up on the bed. Then Gerard, 
satisfied that his enemy was powerless, drew Jap and me aside. 

‘^I’ve told Mark as little as possible,” he murmured. did 
not wish to frighten him unnecessarily. What shall we do with 
Demetrius ?” 

The question demanded consideration. 

“ Jap can go to the house and as soon as it’s light bring the carriage. 
He may as well start at once, eh? — Keep your mouth shut, Jap. No 
tattling till I give you leave.” 

The coachman grinned and shivered. 

Run along,” said Gerard, and bring dry clothes for Mr. Living- 
ston and me.” 

The man untied the boat and pushed off. I had found a pair of 
overalls in the hut, and an overcoat belonging to Demetrius. In these 
I felt fairly comfortable, and my teeth stopped chattering. None the 
less it was bitterly cold ; and I felt that my patron’s protestations of 
gratitude might be deferred. Gerard, however, was feverishly loqua- 
cious, and could not be silenced. 

^‘Cold?” he exclaimed. ^^By heaven, I never was so pleasantly 
warm in my life. If you want to feel cold, Hugo, get your heart 
frozen. My body is a small affair.” 

My body isn’t,” I returned. We can discuss these matters later, 
sir, unless you propose to thaw out your heart with a burning dose of 
pneumonia.” 

We had stood for fully ten minutes exposed to the raw fog, and I 
cut short his chatter by moving towards the hut. I thought, too, that 
I heard the voice of the Greek. 

Gad !” said I, Demetrius has come to.” 

Gerard, startled at these words, ran nimbly ahead and entered the 
hut. I heard an oath, followed by a scream from the boy, and then — 
a horrid thud. As I burst through the door the Greek met me, a 
bloody knife in his hand, and a glare in his eyes the like of which I 
pray that I may never see again. One arm was still tied, and both 
legs, but he lunged viciously at my heart as I sprang at him. I turned 
the thrust with my naked left arm — I shall carry the scar to the grave 
— and countered him full on the point of the jaw. He fell like a 
stricken bullock, and, forcing the knife from his clinched hand, I 
hastened past him and bent over Gerard. He was lying upon the floor, 
mortally wounded, I could guess, but conscious. 

Secure him first,” he gasped. 

The boy was crying bitterly. I had to shake him vigorously 
before he answered my question. 

How did this happen ?” 

I untied him,” he sobbed. I untied him. Oh, father, father ! 
I didn’t mean to do any harm.” 

Never mind, my boy,” said Gerard, faintly. ^^I’m ready to die 
now, anyway.” 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


647 


CHAPTER IX. 

The details I learned later. 

Demetrius, it seemed, had asked the boy to loosen the rope which 
Jap, with hearty good will, had knotted so tightly as to cut the flesh. 
Mark, in absolute ignorance of the true nature of the beast, and moved 
to pity by the sight of his swollen and bleeding wrists, had consented 
to slacken one end. A powerful wrench had freed the Greek’s right 
arm as Gerard entered the hut ; and Demetrius, faithful to his oath, 
had grasped a knife and turned upon the boy. With both feet tied, he 
moved slowly and with difficulty, and Gerard had time to fling him- 
self between the miscreant and his victim. 

He saved his son’s life by the sacrifice of his own, a sacrifice cheer- 
fully consummated. 

Demetrius was arraigned for the murder of his master and convicted. 
The day before execution his iron nerves gave way, and he was bap- 
tized, a trembling penitent, into the communion of the Greek Church. 
Before the ceremony, and in the presence of the warden of San Quen- 
tin, he confessed to the murder of Ferdinand Perkins. The motive 
was a jealous hatred of the man who had supplanted him, and, over- 
shadowing that, the lust of gold. Familiar intercourse with a Croesus 
had aroused a passion of envy. Gerard, doubtless, had dangled his 
dollars before the young man’s eyes, and had trained his pupil in the 
constricted arena of the grossest materialism. But the prize, a part- 
nership, had been given to poor Perkins. The fastening of the crime 
upon Burlington, who had begun to suspect him, was an after- 
thought. 

He left all his money, a large sum, carefully invested, to the archi- 
mandrite of his native town ; and he faced the hangman with a smile 
upon his pallid lips. 

Gerard lingered several weeks, the happiest, so he assured me, of 
his life. The tangled skein was at length unravelled, and it was 
characteristic of the man that he accepted his sentence of death without 
repining or remonstrance. 

“ If Mark,” he said to me, only the day before the final summons 
came, if Mark profits by my experience I don’t grudge the price. 
I’ve always held, Hugo, that reform rises, as I rose, from the ranks, 
but I’ve learnt that it falls, like the sunlight, from above.” 

Under the terms of his will I received a handsome legacy, sufficient 
to insure independence and abundant leisure to scribble, leisure also to 
brood. To exorcise the demon of unrest, I turned to sport, and spent 
the summer and fall upon the head-waters of the Saskatchewan, hunt- 
ing and fishing. But around my camp-fire hovered the image of 
Nancy, alluring, mocking ! 

Upon my return to San Francisco a letter advised me of the ap- 
proaching marriage of Burlington and Mrs. Gerard. I was invited to 
the wedding, and assisted at the quiet celebration that followed. Both 
Burlington and his wife welcomed me warmly, but Nancy — so I 
fancied — held aloof, and greeted me with chilling civility. 


648 


AN IMPENDING SWORD. 


I presume/^ said I, at parting, with a forced smile, “ that you will 
be kind enough to send me a card for your wedding.^^ 

My wedding?’’ she faltered. 

Surely that devotion you spoke of — that night, you remember — 
will 

Her bosom began to heave as she turned from me. 

“ Nancy,” I cried, taking her hand in mine, it is well with you, 
Nancy, is it not? You are happy?” 

No,” she whispered, “ I am not happy.” 

“ Not happy ? If some fellow has dared to ” 

“ Don’t look so fierce,” she murmured. Mamma has new inter- 
ests now, and of course I feel a little out in the cold.” 

It was your mother, then? For her sake you re ” 

Yes.” 

Nancy,” — I took her sweet face between my two big hands, — 
Nancy, I’m going to marry you whether you like it or not. Do you 
hear that ?” 

Her eyes were upturned to mine, and in their luminous depths I 
saw the reflection of my own face. Was it mirrored likewise in her 
heart ? 

Yes,” she murmured, ‘‘ I hear.” 

And what do you say ?” 

^^I think,” — a smile rippled across lips and cheeks, — “I think, 
Hugo, that I shall like it.” 


THE END. 


THE LAST DUELS IN AMERICA. 


649 


THE LAST DUELS IN AMERICA. 

A MONG archaic things in this country we have come at last, happily, 
to class the duello/^ as it Tvas once proud to be called. “ The 
field of honor,” the code of honor,” the satisfaction usual among 
gentlemen,” and other such phrases, have become practically obsolete ; 
and whereas formerly it would have been a very astonishing thing if a 
gentleman failed to send his friend” with a challenge to any other 
gentleman who had insulted him, the astonishing thing now would be 
for such a challenge to be sent under any circumstances ; although it 
must be said, in honest truth, that the duel itself (considered apart 
from its code) was much less objectionable than are many of the modes 
of violence that have succeeded it. So much may be conceded, with- 
out in any degree lessening the just condemnation of duelling as a relic 
of a barbarous chivalry. 

It was the code” which really gave the duel its specially malefic 
character. As long as this inexorable law prevailed, every gentleman 
was under bonds to honor to resent to the death any impeachment, 
however slight, of his truth, honesty, or courage. A few exemptions 
were allowed, it is true ; but, on the whole, not to recognize the code, 
when occasion arose under it, was to be banned as a coward. Reversing 
the maxim of the civil code, the duello magnified trifles to wrongs that 
could be expiated only in blood. It was not allowed to treat such 
things with indiflerence or contempt ; and any attempt to pursue that 
course toward an equal in social, political, or professional life, if it 
did not at once conclude the matter fatally against the person under- 
taking it, only shifted the mortal initiative to the other party. There 
was no alternative where it was so sternly commanded to fight or be 
dishonored. Even men like Clay had to obey the despotic rule ; and 
beneath it such men as Hamilton had to fall. 

England preceded us in abolishing the code ; and if it still persists 
pretty generally upon the continent of Europe, it is the less to be 
lamented there by reason of the innocuous character of the contests, 
whereby duelling is transformed into an amusing sport, much less 
dangerous than meetings in the fistic prize-ring. Our newspapers, 
indeed, continue to announce duels as occurring among us; but in 
every case for over a decade past the alleged duel, on investigation, 
has turned out to be either a hoax of the blank-cartridge order, or a 
chance rencounter, or, perhaps, an aflray between draymen, armed with 
their whips. Several inchoate affairs” have been amicably settled,” 
and others have come to inglorious conclusion by the arrest of the 
parties and putting them under bonds to keep the peace. The last 
real duels in America, under the code, took place in Virginia, during 
the bitter struggle between the Readjuster and Funder factions over 
the State debt, when so much passion was evoked on both sides. These 
were not only begun and ended with punctilious observance of the 
code, as far as circumstances permitted, but were fought out to blood.” 


650 


THE LAST DUELS IN AMERICA. 


The last duel occurred in Augusta county, early Saturday morning, 
June 30, 1883. The penultimate one came off near Richmond at 
sunrise on Sunday, June 6, 1880. Nobody was killed in either, for- 
tunately ; but one who was a principal in each of them was dangerously 
wounded in both. The last fatal duel was that between Mordecai and 
McCarty, which was fought near Richmond in 1872, wherein Mordecai 
was killed and McCarty very badly wounded. 

After reconstruction’^ in Virginia, all the political elements op- 
posed to Republicanism organized as the Conservative party, and in 
this party the fight over the State debt and its collateral issues began. 
In 1879 the Readjusters of the Conservative party separated from it 
and formed a new party, under the leadership of General William 
Mahone. That same year, with the aid of a portion of the Repub- 
licans (for there were Republican Funders also), the Readjusters carried 
the State, securing good majorities in both branches of the General 
Assembly. In the year following, the Conservative Funders, in a 
State convention, declared themselves the Democratic party of Virginia, 
in full affiliation with the National Democracy. This was the occasion 
of an editorial in the Richmond Whig which led to the duel of that 
year. The Whig w'as the central organ of the Readjusters, and it was 
the only daily representative of its side on the pending issues. Except 
a few weekly journals, the Whig stood alone to battle with the press 
of the whole Commonwealth. What it lacked in numbers it sought 
to make up by the vigor and trenchancy of its articles. Thus, when 
the Conservative Funders formally declared themselves Democrats, the 
Whig came out with a leading editorial headed Political Pirates,” in 
which was the following paragraph ; 

‘^The career of these political buccaneers has been marked by 
every perfidy. In 1860 they abandoned the national Democracy in its 
supreme hour of trial, and plunged Virginia into secession, revolution, 
and war, to promote their own selfish purposes. Having thus precipi- 
tated us into a long and sanguinary struggle, they engrossed for them- 
selves all the positions of honor, profit, and trust (and of safety as 
well), while the masses of the deceived people were sent to slaughter 
and privation. Never for one moment during the whole four years of 
strife did they forget the spoils ; never for one moment did their par- 
tisanry yield to statesmanship or patriotism ; and the Confederacy was 
left to drift to ruin amidst their petty jealousy of abler and better men 
who did not belong to their faction, and their own bickerings and 
differences over the plunder which they reserved for themselves, while 
the people starved and the army was unpaid and unsupplied. Even 
in the final collapse and catastrophe these creatures were true to the 
grovelling instincts of their natures, and the Confederacy, as a civil 
and political existence, perished miserably as its President, the Gov- 
ernor of Virginia, and the whole bomb-proof corps, grabbed the re- 
maining swag and sneaked away in humiliating disguise and shameful 
trepidation.” 

This appeared in the Whig for Tuesday, June 1, 1880. It was 
not until the afternoon of the ensuing Friday that Mr. Bernard P. 
Green, of Warrenton, came to the Whig office and delivered to the 


THE LAST DUELS IN AMERICA. 


651 


editor a note from Colonel Thomas 8mith of Warrenton, in which, 
after quoting the coiKjluding sentence of the editorial paragraph already 
given, it was said, “ This is an unmistakable allusion to my father, 
William Smith, who was then Governor of Virginia. I use this, the 
earliest opportunity which circumstances afford, to demand the re- 
sponsible author of this article. 

This will be handed you by my friend, Mr. Bernard P. Green. 

Your obedient servant, 

(signed) Thomas Smith.” 

The editor immediately responded, in writing. After acknowl- 
edging the receipt of Colonel Smith’s note, he said, To its inquiry as 
to the responsible author of an editorial article in the Whig^ to which 
you refer, I have to respond that both as editor and author I am re- 
sponsible. 

Your obedient servant, 

(signed) W. C. Elam.” 

At this late day it may be said, in justice to the editor, that his 
references to certain high officials in the sentence excepted to had regard 
to them solely in their representative capacity. However, no explana- 
tions were then asked or offered. The next step in the affair” was a 
peremptory demand for a public retraction of the matter indicated as 
offensive. In his second note Colonel Smith said, “ I now demand 
from you a retraction of all allusion to my father of an offensive and 
injurious character contained in the article to which your attention has 
been called, and I require that this retraction shall be made in the 
editorial columns of the Whig.^^ 

The editor made an immediate reply to this demand also, as fol- 
lows : “ As I am not aware of any reason, but your demand, for a 
retraction of the matter in question, I must decline to make the re- 
traction.” 

At nine A.M. next day (Saturday, June 5) Mr. Green delivered a 
final note from his principal, which concluded thus: Mr. Green, who 
bears this, is authorized to meet any gentleman to whom you refer 
him, and arrange the terms of a meeting.” 

The editor had first called in Hon. C. H. Causey, then clerk of the 
State Senate, to act for him ; but this gentleman’s official position con- 
strained him to decline going on the field. In the exigencies of secrecy 
and despatch, Mr. James B. Walters, an attache of the Whig., was 
then called in. The place of meeting was fixed at a point between 
Oakwood Cemetery and the York Piver Railroad, not far below the 
city, and the time agreed on was six A.M. of next day, Sunday. Mr. 
Green suggested Saturday afternoon ; but the demands of a daily 
newspaper on the editor and his friend could not be ignored for so 
small a matter as a duel. Mr. Walters (since dead) was an experienced 
newspaper man, and had been formerly editor of the Norfolk Journal, 
As noble a fellow as ever lived, he was as simple as a child in the ordi- 
nary affairs of this workaday world. But he and James Barron Hope 
had once been arrested while preparing to fight a duel, and he fully 


652 


THE LAST DUELS IN AMERICA. 


understood the value of secrecy where a meeting was really meant. 
He engaged a surgeon and a carriage, and secured a pair of duelling- 
pistols. The surgeon originally engaged having to excuse himself at 
the last moment, Dr. Hugh McGuire Taylor came to the rescue : he 
was nephew and pupil of Hunter McGuire, the eminent Virginia sur- 
geon, and himself one of the foremost in his profession. 

The editor and his friend, accompanied by the surgeon on horse- 
back, were promptly on the ground, where the other party had already 
arrived. They also had a pair of duelling-pistols, and in the toss-ups 
of the seconds they won the word’^ and the choice of pistols, although, 
in strictness, the choice should have been with the challenged party. 
However, the editor was indifferent, and on the way out had expressed 
his intention not to fire at Colonel Smith. Thereupon Walters had 
stopped the carriage and threatened to get out unless his principal 
agreed at least to fire at some portion of the coloneFs anatomy. 

A spot was speedily selected and measured off by Mr. Walters, the 
positions being ten paces apart. It was afterward learned that this 
spot was the same upon which the fatal Mordecai-McCarty duel had 
been fought. Mr. Green, in taking his post to give the word, drew a 
revolver, and asked Mr. Walters to do likewise, as the terms of the 
meeting and the rules of the duello were to be strictly enforced. This 
demonstration was probably m r^gle, but it made the editor smile, in 
spite of the serious nature of the occasion. 

‘‘ Gentlemen, are you ready asked Mr. Green. 

Both principals responding in the affirmative, Mr. Green then said, — 
One, two, three — fire ! One, two, three — stop 

The editor raised his pistol no higher than his right hip, aimed 
thus at Colonel Smith’s legs, and pulled trigger at the word “ one” 
after the command to fire. He missed, of course. Colonel Smith 
raised his pistol to his eye, took deliberate aim, and fired at ‘Gwo” 
after the command to do so. 

The editor reeled around to the left as his antagonist fired, and 
would have fallen upon his face, had not his second rushed up and 
caught him in his arms. The colonel’s ball had struck the editor pre- 
cisely in the centre of his chin, crushing that, knocking out four front 
teeth, and causing a comminuted fracture of the lower jaw-bone to 
both its angles, right and left. The immediate pain was nothing. 
The stroke of the ball and its entrance caused a curiously soothing 
sensation, rather than otherwise ; and the editor recollects to this day 
his wonder at the apparently slow progress of the lead after he first 
felt it. The ball, by its impact against the chin-bone, had been flat- 
tened to a disk about the size of a quarter-dollar and as thin as ordi- 
nary tin, and finally embedded itself in the bottom of the editor’s 
mouth, under the tongue. Curiously enough, when the pistols were 
loaded, Walters had urged Green to put in more powder. If that had 
been done, and the ball had hit as it did, it would have gone crashing 
through the editor’s neck, and he would have fallen dead on the spot. 
But with more powder the chances are that the ball would have gone 
over the editor’s head. So much difference does a little more or less 
make. 


THE LAST DUELS IN AMERICA. 


653 


Dr. Taylor, desiring to be involved in the affair as little as possible, 
had taken position some distance from the field of battle ; but he had 
lent his horse to Walters, so that in case of necessity the surgeon could 
be speedily notified. Placing the wounded editor in an easy posture, 
Walters rode off at a gallop up the railroad after Dr. Taylor. It was 
a rough ride for horse and horseman, over ties, cow-pits, etc., and in 
leaping a cow-pit the revolver Walters had in a hip-pocket exploded 
one of its charges, the blazing powder setting his clothing afire, and 
the ball grazing the right hind-quarter of the horse and making him 
almost frantic. But Walters was too g^illant to be dismayed by any- 
thing, and on he dashed. Meanwhile, Colonel Smith and Mr. Green 
were politely expressing their regret and sympathy to the prostrate 
editor, and kindly tendering any service in their power. Almost im- 
mediately two other friends of Colonel Smith appeared upon the scene, 
General W. H. Payne and his brother. Captain Alexander Payne. 
These gentlemen had been near at hand all the time, as it had been 
mutually understood that any of the friends of either principal might 
be. Everything that humanity and courtesy could dictate was said 
and done by all these brave men ; but the editor could say little, and 
that indistinctly, with pain and difficulty. Nevertheless, he managed 
to say that he was glad he did not hit his opponent, and that he pre- 
ferred, if one was to be hurt, that it should be himself. He urged the 
party to leave without delay, as witnesses might discover them there 
and make trouble for them. They believed him to be mortally 
wounded ; but he knew better, as he felt that flattened ball beneath 
his tongue. Finally, and with reluctance, they withdrew, leaving the 
editor alone; but within a few minutes afterward his second returned 
with the surgeon, and soon he was in bed at Mr. Walters’s home, with 
his jaw cased and bound immovably. And so he remained for weeks, 
taking his only nourishment in a liquid form by suction through a 
glass tube. 

The secrecy with which the affair had been conducted was remark- 
able, and it was not until Monday that it became even a street rumor. 
The editor’s home was seventy miles from Richmond, as it still is, and 
he usually went there every Friday or Saturday afternoon, returning 
to his journalistic labors on Monday. On the Saturday of the chal- 
lenge he had written a brief note home, merely stating that he was 
“ detained by important business,” so that they knew nothing of the 
matter there until Monday afternoon, and his wife did not join him 
till Tuesday evening. He jests at scars who never felt a wound,” 
and to all such persons these details may seem petty and trivial ; but 
not so to any one who has undergone pain and danger at a distance 
from and without the knowledge of the hearts and hands that alone 
make life worth living or death worth fearing. 

Within a few weeks, thanks to the surgical skill of Dr. Taylor and 
the assiduous attentions of the Walters household, the editor was able 
to resume his duties, without any disfiguration, save a small whitish 
spot where the ball entered the chin, and with no disability, except in 
mastication, — the loss of four front teeth and the looseness of several 
remaining ones interfering seriously with that important process. He 


654 


THE LAST DUELS IN AMERICA. 


and Mr. Walters were arrested, and an examination into the affair was 
attempted before the Henrico county court (Hon. Edmund Waddill 
presiding); but it amounted to nothing, — the witnesses either knowing 
nothing, or declining to testify on the plea that their evidence might 
implicate themselves. The Smith party escaped all arrest; but it was 
understood that they remained out of the State until assured that the 
editor would speedily recover. 

In a duel the expenses are great, as everything must be done with 
all possible despatch and secrecy, without regard to cost. Then there 
is the inevitable loss of time, the worry and anxiety of it all, the inter- 
ruption of all ordinary concerns, the distress of family and friends, 
etc. ; but if one of the principals be wounded, he feels more than com- 
pensated for all by the discovery that the vanquished may conquer 
mankind by their very disabilities and misfortunes. He sees all the 
best traits of human nature, and is forced to forget that it has any evil 
ones. All the cream of human kindness is freely his. ^^ot only are 
his kin more than kind, but friends, strangers, and enemies strive with 
one another to alleviate his injuries and to cheer his confinement. He 
is tempted to wish that life were always thus. The truce is soon over, 
however ; and in the case of this editor he had to resume battle with 
his pen before he was able to leave his room. 

But a few days over three years bad elapsed before the editor of 
the Whig was again called to ‘‘the field of honor,^^ — this time by a 
brother editor. The trouble here arose about the “ nigger.’^ It was a 
leading Funder policy to stigmatize and discredit the Beadjusters as 
“ the nigger party,’’ and the Richmond Evening State at that period 
had seemed to make this policy its specialty. On the 20th of June, 
1883, in a leading article, it said, “The Whig^ which is the organ of 
Boss Mahone and his hail-fellows-well-met from among negro poli- 
ticians and white renegades of the same order, is forever accusing the 
Democrats of raising the cry of ‘ nigger.’ . . . For a long time petty 
Boss Mahone has striven through his organ to find a name for himself 
and his followers. ‘ Liberal’ and ‘ Administration’ have been tried 
without success. Let the Mahoneites seize at once their favorite and 
characteristic name, ‘ Nigger.’ ” 

The State further said, “ In making this comment upon Boss Ma- 
hone, we wish it to be distinctly understood by all his corrupt henchmen 
that what we say and have said of him we mean and have meant of 
them, personally, individually, collectively, or in any other sense they 
may choose to feel. A more vicious, corrupt, and degraded gang never 
followed any adventurer than those that hang about the petty Boss. 
These fellows it is who, having never a scruple in promoting mixed 
marriages and mixed schools, and in opposing honest white men — honest 
colored men, we trust — in the strong desire to turn aside so dire an evil, 
accuse their opponents of using their own offensive word, ‘ nigger.’ ” 

The immediate object of this editorial was considered on all sides 
to be obvious enough ; but the editor of the Whig preferred to be 
challenged ; and therefore next morning’s Whig contained an article 
which, after answering the State on the “ nigger” issue, said, “ Now 
we might be content with simply giving the lie to all this, — as we do. 


THE LAST DUELS IN AMERICA. 


655 


generally, for the Readjuster party, and specially in so far as its charges 
are meant to apply to the Whig, or anybody connected with the Whig 
in a responsible way ; but we wish further to say that the whole article 
from which we make these extracts is a tissue of general denuncia- 
tion which would humiliate us if it were not accompanied by lofty 
pretensions of superiority in manners, morals, and letters, that are 
laughably ridiculous coming from a source so pitiable in all moral and 
intellectual resources; and we wish further to say that this denuncia- 
tion is made with an air of such utter ferocity that it might alarm 
us, but for our recollection of the fact that the hero (the Bombastes 
Furioso) of the State has the singular reputation of having illustrated 
his untamed valor only by going on the field — without caps ! while, on 
the other hand, the humble personage who now, on this occasion, has 
the honor to represent the Whig^ its editorial corps, and the Readjuster 
party, is at least reported to have been so rash, once upon a time, as not 
to have forgotten the caps, — falling before a shot which he met in full 
face. 

“ Consequently — unintimidated and not utterly crushed — we laugh 
at the Statens vituperation and vaporing, and beg to remark that not 
only does the State lie, but its ‘ editor and owneF lies, and the poor 
creature who may have actually written the article in question also 
lies, — all, jointly and severally, — deliberately, knowingly, maliciously, 
and with the inevitable cowardice that is always yoked with insolent 
bravado.’’ 

The without caps” allusion referred to the occasion when the 
editor of the Stale, having been challenged by Riddleberger (afterward 
United States Senator from Virginia), appeared on the field with his 
chosen weapons and all the necessary ammunition except the indis- 
pensable percussion-caps for the pistols. As Riddleberger had another 
duel on hand that morning (with Hon. George D. Wise), he declined 
to wait for the caps to be supplied, and a deal of ridicule had pursued 
the uncapped gentleman, although the mishap was wholly due to his 
second’s oversight. 

The wife of the Whig editor was in the city at the time, and he 
frankly showed her his response to the State and told her what would 
surely ensue. She was much distressed, but agreed to keep counsel 
and endure the trouble as best she could. The business-manager of 
the Whig was also informed, and instructed what to do. That night, 
before the Whig went to press, its editor had secluded himself where 
the police would not be likely to seek him, but in easy communication 
with friends. After the Whig^s article appeared, no correspondence 
was necessary, and none took place. The owner and editor” of the 
State was Mr. Richard F. Beirne. His friends, Mr. W. L. Royall and 
Hon. George D. Wise, were speedily in communication with Mr. 
Waverley N. Ragland and Colonel A. W. Jones, who represented the 
editor of the Whig. The terms agreed on were ferocious : to fight the 
afternoon of the next day (Friday), at a spot near Hanover Junction, 
twenty-six miles from Richmond, with navy revolvers, at a distance 
of seven paces, the parties, after the second shot without result, to 
advance and fire at will. 


656 


THE LAST DUELS IN AMERICA. 


But the affair did not come off according to appointment. Both 
principals were punctually on the ground, Mr. Beirne accompanied 
by his seconds and a crowd of other friends, while the editor of the 
Whig had with him only one second (Mr. Ragland), Dr. Lewis Wheat 
(a pupil of Hunter McGuire), and two other friends, in case they 
should be needed. It had been impossible to obtain a pair of navy 
revolvers, and army revolvers had been substituted ; but while the 
seconds were discussing the weapons, Mr. Beirne was arrested. This 
drove that gentleman to desperation. He could not afford to be the 
hero of two fiascos caused by default on his part. His chagrin was 
so great that he wept. He besought Ragland not to declare the matter 
off, and to allow him another time and place ; and to this Ragland 
agreed, saying that the editor of the Whig was always at Mr. Beirne’s 
service. Soon after, the editor of the State escaped from custody, and 
the editor of the Whig went to the house of a friend in the neighbor- 
hood to await further proceedings. That night the house was sur- 
rounded by deputy sheriffs of the county, and the editor and his whole 
party would have been captured but for the courage of a son of the 
house (young Mr. Denton), who stood at the front door and told the 
officers that they could enter only over his dead body. During the 
night the vigilance of the besiegers so relaxed that the besieged were 
able to reach their carriages and get away. Mr. Beirne was already 
flying to West Virginia. The editor of the Whig found hospitable 
refuge for a few days with Hon. Edmund Waddill (no longer judge, 
but subsequently member of Congress), at his residence in Henrico 
county. 

After some further negotiations, it was agreed that another attempt 
to meet should be made, this time in Augusta county, Saturday, June 
30. The original seconds on both sides were so closely watched that 
they could not get away, and the editor of the Whig had to make the 
expedition in a two-horse carriage, accompanied by Dr. Wheat as sur- 
geon and quartermaster and Mr. John D. Snel lings as commissary. 
The carriage was well supplied, and the party travelled chiefly at night, 
camping in the woods by day. Much of this precaution was probably 
unnecessary, but it was said that the authorities and others were making 
every effort to prevent the meeting. One dark and rainy night, having 
no lamps nor lantern. Dr. Wheat led the horses, feeling out the road 
with his feet, in mud knee-deep. The horses finally refused to go with- 
out whipping, and the party had to stop and go into camp. Luckily, 
the editor remembered where there was an unoccupied house near by, 
doorless and windowless, and this, after much groping in the dark, they 
found. The horses were haltered, without feed, to the wheels of the 
carriage, and the men got such rest and shelter as they could upon the 
bare floor. Within a few miles was the editor’s residence; but, for 
many reasons, it was considered best not to go there. 

By daybreak the party were up and away, on a by-road which en- 
abled them to flank Gordonsville, and a push was made for Charlottes- 
ville, to obtain a necessary relay of horses. Snellings and the editor 
flanked Charlottesville by a long and roundabout walk through the 
fields, while the doctor dared the town. Having passed successfully, 


THE LAST DUELS IN AMERICA. 


657 


the editor and his companion got over a stone wall by the roadside, 
and sat among some bushes, awaiting Dr. Wheat. As they sat there 
an open carriage passed by, in which was Judge T. T. Fauntleroy of 
the State Supreme Court, whom the editor had succeeded as Secretary 
of the Commonwealth ; but the judge was looking another way. And 
here it seems pro[)er to say that the editor in becoming a State officer 
never took the anti-duelling oath at all, as, when he qualified, his 
former disabilities had been removed by act of the legislature, and the 
present oath for such persons, that they will not engage in a duel, etc., 
had not then been enacted. However, he had placed his resignation in 
the hands of the private secretary of the Governor, to be tendered and 
accepted if deemed necessary. 

Dr. Wheat appearing with fresh horses, the party pushed forward, 
hoping to pass the mountains that night. But it began to rain again 
after dark ; and though Dr. Wheat (having procured a lantern in Char- 
lottesville) led the way afoot with a light, the difficulties and dangers 
multiplied so in the intense darkness, amidst a storm of wind and 
water, with ever-recurring floods, precipices, and chasms, that advan- 
tage had to be taken of the first open plateau to stop and unharness 
the team, the travellers huddling together in the carriage to keep them- 
selves from freezing, June as it was. Next day, happily, they reached 
the residence of John F. Lewis, Jr., not far from the appointed place 
of meeting, and in sight of the home of the late John F. Lewis, 
Sr., ex-United States Senator, ex-Lieutenant-Governor, etc. In this 
pleasant haven the party rested and recruited. 

Meanwhile, the Beirne party were making a similar journey from 
West Virginia, with like difficulties and dangers. 

But where was a second for the editor of the Whig? Dr. Wheat 
gallantly declared that he would act, if necessary. The difficulty, 
however, disappeared on the coming of Daniel Sheffey Lewis from 
Harrisonburg. The eldest son of the ex-Senator, he was then United 
States District Attorney for the Western district of Virginia; but he 
readily assumed the duties and responsibilities of second to the editor, 
and all final arrangements for the meeting in Augusta were perfected. 
But some degree of seclusion was still necessary to the editor, notwith- 
standing he was reported to be ‘^a Mr. Green from Bichmoiid.” On 
a visit at Lynnwood was Hon. L. L. Lewis, President of the State 
Supreme Court, a half-brother of the ex-Senator ; and a meeting be- 
tween him and the Whig editor just then would have been awkward, to 
say the least of it. No doubt the judge inferred everything from 
what he necessarily saw and heard. But he was discreet, and made 
no sign. 

Before day on Saturday the Whig editoFs party was on the way to 
the appointed place in Augusta county. It was first to reach the ground, 
a wooded glade three miles west of Waynesboro\ Soon the Beirne party 
arrived, and as the sun rose the principals to the afiair were in posi- 
tion, armed with Colt army revolvers furnished by the challenged side, 
but which the challengee had scrupulously refrained from handling in 
advance. Mr. Beirne, though not tall, was somewhat Falstaffian in 
girth, and it was suggested that the largest part of his body should be 
VoL. LVII.— 42 


658 


THE LAST DUELS IN AMERICA, 


fired at ; but this his opponent utterly refused to do, declaring that in 
no case would he aim higher than the gentleman’s hips. Mr. F. M. 
Wright acted for Mr. Beirne on the ground. Every one there was 
from first to last the mildest-mannered man that ever scuttled ship 
or cut a throat in fact, for that occasion at least, all were the very 
pinks of courtesy, insomuch that one felt that he could hardly meet 
death in better company or in a more agreeable way. 

Mr. Lewis won the choice of position and the word.” At the 
first exchange, the challengee fired at the word one,” Mr. Beirne fol- 
lowing at ‘‘two.” Just as Mr. Beirne fired, he flinched, as if some 
one had suddenly thrust a pin into the fleshiest part of his person, and 
it was afterwards confessed that his adversary’s ball had penetrated his 
clothing and slightly grazed the flesh. Mr. Beirne’s ball went wild. 
In the next exchange, however, Mr. Beirne made a centre shot, and his 
opponent missed entirely. After this second fire there was a moment 
of intense expectancy and suspense, for then it was that each principal 
was at liberty to advance and fire at will, without any further inter- 
position of seconds. Both looked at each other steadily during this 
interval, and then the editor of the Whig, glancing towards his second, 
said, “ I am hit.” Striking the right thigh, the ball had gone straight 
forward through the lower part of the body and lodged in the left 
thigh ; and so the surgeon and Mr. Lewis were told by their principal ; 
but Dr. Wheat expressed the opinion that the ball had not gone be- 
yond the right thigh, and that the feeling in the left was merely sympa- 
thetic. Meanwhile, after a brief consultation wdth Mr. Beirne, Mr. 
Wright came forward and declared that his principal was fully satis- 
fied, — the Beirne party thereupon leaving the field. 

When the editor was hit, it seemed to him as if a thrown stone had 
struck him, and then he distinctly felt the ball as it crawled on its 
way. At first he was about to attempt the further carrying out of the 
cartd, when he reflected that not only was it his part to await Mr. 
Beirne’s movements, but that he himself might fall if he sought to 
take a step. The ball narrowly missed the femoral artery, passed in 
front of the thigh-bone, grazed the urethra slightly, and, after entering 
the left thigh, had been deflected downward and inward, being found 
on the inner side of that thigh Sunday morning by the editor himself. 
That day it was extracted, the wounded man refusing to take any 
anaesthetic. 

As had been arranged beforehand (in case of necessity), the wounded 
editor had now been taken to Lynnwood, the handsome home of the 
senior Lewis. There he had every attention and comfort. Dr. Wheat 
remained constantly with him, and on Monday his wife was also w^el- 
comed to the hospitable mansion. The stream of visitors was constant, 
among them being General Mahone, who had not failed to visit the 
editor when he was wounded before. Everybody, except the wounded 
man himself, seemed to be very anxious about his condition. The 
general outcry was that Dr. Hunter McGuire should be called in, and 
that great surgeon said that he held himself in readiness to respond at 
a moment’s notice, but that this notice must come from Dr. Wheat. 
Even ex-Senator Lewis, although Dr. Wheat was his nephew, frankly 


THE LAST DUELS IN AMERICA. 


659 


told the editor that his case was so critical that he wished a more ex- 
perienced surgeon should be summoned; but the editor declared he 
had the fullest confidence in the young surgeon, and would consent to 
no interference with him. The result justified this confidence; for, 
although after extracting the ball and supplying a catheter for the con- 
stricted urethra Dr. Wheat did nothing but apply antiseptics and 
watch the case, it was heroic treatment, and the most skilful possible. 
Soon the editor was well enough to be removed to his residence in 
Louisa county, and shortly after he resumed his editorial duties in 
Richmond, though still confined to his apartments. There visits and 
attentions showered upon him from all sorts of people, including the 
Governor of the State. As soon as he was able to take part in it, a 
public reception was given him, whereat several testimonials of regard 
were presented to him, and Judge Fauntleroy of the State Supreme 
Court delivered an address of congratulation. Every cloud has its 
silver lining. 

But these duels (and all duels, let us hope) are now a dream of 
things that were.^’ Poor Beirne is dead ; dear Walters is dead ; Col- 
onel Thomas Smith is a Territorial Chief Justice ; Sheffey Lewis edits 
an influential newspaper; Dr. Wheat is among the most distinguished 
and successful of his noble profession ; and the former editor of the 
former Whig (both going down together with the close of 1885, their 
mission, perhaps, accomplished) is “ taking life easy’^ at his old home 
near Trevilian, Virginia. 

Under the present laws of Virginia, all the parties to a duel in the 
State, or who go out of the State to fight one, or who, in either case, 
send, accept, bear, or otherwise* have to do with a challenge to fight, 
are disqualified to vote or hold any office in the State, unless their 
disabilities be removed by act of the General Assembly, — which has 
always been done, however, up to date. Where a mortal wound is 
inflicted in either of the above cases, he who inflicts it is guilty of 
murder, and the seconds are declared accessories before the fact. But 
it all depends upon conviction (except the oaths of office), and testimony 
seems impossible to secure ; for, although it is provided that seconds 
may be compelled to testify (and in such case shall not be prosecuted 
as accessories), nobody has been able to suggest a compulsory process, 
except the revival of torture. 

The general anti-duelling oath required of all Virginia officers is 
to the effect that they have not been concerned in any actual or at- 
tempted duel since May 1, 1882, and will not be so concerned in any 
during their continuance in office. The especial oath, where the officer 
qualifying has been party to an actual or attempted duel since May 1, 
1882, but has had his disabilities removed, is to the effect that he will 
not be concerned as a party to any such duel during his term of office. 

But for the removal of disabilities, anti-duelling oaths would be 
potent restraints ; but, as it is, the whole body of anti-duelling law is 
mere hrutum fulmen. It is the happy change in public sentiment that 
has suppressed duelling, and nothing but public sentiment can keep it 
suppressed. 

An illustration of a vigilance in striking contrast with that of the 


660 


HIGHWAYS OF THE SEA. 


authorities occurred in connection with the last duel. As the carriage 
bearing the wounded editor passed out of the gate of the grove in 
which the affair took place, there stood Eccles Cuthbert, then the Vir- 
ginia representative of the New York Heraldy and now Washington 
correspondent of the Richmond Dispatch. The only arrest of anybody 
for complicity in this duel was that of the colored driver of the car- 
riage in which Mr. Beirne came from West Virginia. 

William Cecil Elam. 


KIGHWAYB OF THE SEA, 

AND THE STEAMSHIPS WHICH TRAVEL THEM. 

A fter his business has reached that prosperous condition in which 
it practically runs itself, the average American begins to think 
of travelling. It dawns upon him that the world is a big thing, 
and that if he expects to see much of it there is no time to lose. His 
first excursion beyond the limits of Hoboken and Coney Island is 
usually the grand touF^ of Europe. Then he comes home and after 
a while explores the United States and Mexico. Sometimes the treat- 
ment extends through several summers before a permanent cure is 
effected; sometimes the man finds that travelling isn’t his peculiar 
weakness, and settles down to become an oracle in his own locality 
after the first trial. 

The class of people he represents are travellers only in a limited 
sense of the word, but during their amateur journey ings they are sure 
to have met, on the various steamers, in railway compartments, and in 
the most comfortable quarters of the best hotels, certain strangers who 
seem at ease with all mankind, — who are apparently making no “ grand 
tour,” but who, in a comfortable, conversational way, will accurately 
describe the uttermost parts of the earth’s surface, and remark, casually, 
that they spent last June at Simla, and are now just running out to 
Manilla for the winter months.” These are the real travellers, and it 
is to those who often express a desire to follow in their footsteps that I 
make a few suggestions concerning the highways of the sea. 

The North Atlantic voyages are too short. One just begins to 
appreciate the restful delight of being at sea when the ship reaches port 
and the effect is lost. For this reason, and because the lines are all so 
well known, I shall not refer to them, except for comparison. 

The first requisite in voyaging for pleasure is a comfortable steam- 
ship; and there are certain details of construction which make a 
steamer more or less so. For instance, a ship of 2000 tons and 1200 
horse-power may do very well for a short coasting-trip of twenty-four 
hours or so, — especially if well fitted up, — but it is altogether too small 
for deep-sea sailing under the considerations of cargo, fuel, and engine 
space to which modern steam-ships are subjected. A 4000-ton steamer 
affords elbow-room for a sufficient number of passengers to amuse each 


HIGHWAYS OF THE SEA. 


661 


other during a six weeks’ voyage, has ample space for provisions, re- 
frigerating apparatus, machinery, coal enough to develop 6000 horse- 
power, half a dozen bath-rooms, large dining- and lounging-saloons, 
and may carry a full cargo besides. A ship of 4000 tons may be ac- 
cepted as of the minimum size for comfortable sailing, and one of be- 
tween 6000 and 7000 tons, with engines capable of developing 10,000 
horse-power, may be considered the standard for any long voyage of 
the present day. 

The enormous passenger and freight traffic between New York and 
Liverpool has rendered our 13,000-ton leviathans a business necessity, 
but the atmosphere of home life which one finds upon the somewhat 
smaller, long- voyage ships is lacking with them. If two hundred 
passengers are shut up on one steam-ship together for six weeks, even 
though the daily intercourse be broken somewhat by the ports touched 
at, they are naturally more tolerant of each other’s weaknesses, and 
become better friends, than when they scatter in every direction after 
the sixth day. 

As the city of London is the largest in the world, so it is also the 
chief centre of navigation. Starting from it, or from its supplement- 
ary mail ports of Liverpool, Plymouth, and Southampton, there are 
eight great ocean post- roads, including the route to the United States. 
From San Francisco and Vancouver there are three more, — making a 
total of eleven broad highways of the sea. 

The two greatest of these are the Orient voyages, — London to 
Hong-Kong and London to Sydney. The route, which varies only in 
the different ports of call selected by the five leading steam-ship lines 
of England, France, Germany, Spain, and Italy, is as follows. Starting 
from London, Marseilles, Bremen, Barcelona, or Genoa, according to 
the line, from one to three Mediterranean ports are touched at, then 
Alexandria, Port Said, Aden, Colombo (Ceylon), Singapore, Shanghai, 
Hong-Kong, and Yokohama. The voyage to Sydney is identical with 
the above as far as Colombo. From there the first port made is Albany 
in West Australia, then Adelaide, Melbourne, and Sydney. 

These two great routes, with their connecting branches, cover the 
entire Eastern hemisphere. At Gibraltar the traveller may transfer to 
a steamer for any port on the Mediterranean, Black Sea, or Madeira, 
Cape Verde, Canary, and Azores Islands ; at Port Said, for any port 
on the Eed Sea or the east coast of Africa, or any city of Turkey or 
Egypt ; at Aden (which lies at the mouth of the Red Sea), for any port 
on the east coast of Africa, Cape of Good Hope, Persian Gulf, Sea of 
Arabia, etc. ; at Colombo, for any port of India, Burmah, Seychelles, 
Mauritius, Madagascar, etc. ; at Singapore (in the Malacca Strait), for 
any port of the East Indian Archipelago, China, Japan, or the northeast 
coast of Australia ; at Melbourne and Sydney, for any port of Tas- 
mania, New Zealand, South Sea Islands, China, Japan, Sandwich 
Islands, California, Vancouver, Buenos Ayres, or Rio Janeiro. 

It should be remembered, however, by the prospective traveller 
that each of the five leading steam-ship lines aforesaid runs steamers 
direct to many of the ports enumerated. For instance, a person 
wishing to go from London to Calcutta would secure a state-room 


662 


HIGHWAYS OF THE SEA. 


Oil one of the magnificent ships which make that their terminal port, 
and proceed over the same course as the Hong-Kong liners as far as 
Colombo. This would also apply to Bombay, Kurrachee, Busrah, 
Rangoon, Cape of Good Hope, and the northeast coast of Australia. 
The connecting points are mentioned for the benefit of the passenger 
who sails, as the fancy seizes him, from one port to another. 

Now as to the Orient ships themselves. The greatest, and I be- 
lieve the oldest, line is the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navi- 
gation Company, which has a fleet of fifty-eight ships, representing 
a total tonnage of 230,000 and 240,000 horse-power. Other leading 
lines have larger fleets, but the average tonnage and engine capacity are 
smaller. For instance, the Messageries Mari times, of Marseilles, has 
a fleet of about seventy-eight ships, with a tonnage of 226,000 and 
185,000 horse-power; the Norddeutscher Lloyds, of Bremen, seventy- 
six ships, with a tonnage of 200,000 and 180,000 horse-power ; and the 
Navigazione Generale (Florio Rubbatino), of Genoa, one hundred and 
ten ships of very small tonnage, with the exception of the four or five 
China ships of the fleet. 

Besides the P. & O. there are two other great English lines to the 
East, — the Orient Steam Navigation Company, to Sydney, which has 
a fleet of eleven magnificent steam-ships (all over 5500 tons register 
and developing from 7000 to 10,000 horse-power, excepting the two 
smallest ships, which it keeps in commission for yachting trips alone, 
and the British India Steam Navigation Company, which has a fleet 
of one hundred and four ships, with a total tonnage of 170,000, but 
inferior engine-power. 

The choice of steamer in which to make the six weeks^ Orient 
voyage is to some extent a matter of nationality. I have known a 
gentleman to express an invariable preference for the Italian line, 
simply because he was born in Ravenna and liked Italian cooking, 
regardless of the fact that his national steamers are small and dirty. 
On the score of size, comfort, safety, cleanliness, and congenial society, 
I should recommend the English ships. The officers on the German 
lines are courteous and are unquestionably good seamen and navigators, 
but I have a strong antipathy to German cooking, the way the ships 
are fitted up, and the fellow-passengers one sometimes meets on them. 
The French (Messageries) steamers are, as a rule, scrupulously clean, 
the cooking on them is excellent, — especially for the warm climates, — 
and the officers are gentlemen and experienced sailors ; but if I happen 
to be caught in an Indian Ocean white squall, or if fire breaks out 
between decks at sea, I have a preference for a British captain on the 
bridge, two stalwart British quartermasters at the wheel, and a Scotch 
or English chief engineer below. 

The larger and newer ships of all these lines are simply floating 
palaces, with every contrivance that modern ingenuity can supply for 
the comfort and safety of their passengers. As the voyage is almost 
entirely through warm latitudes, they are especially fitted up for the 
tropics. Each state-room either has a row of glass transoms, which 
may be opened to give free circulation of air, around its walls, or, as 
on the Orient liners, the walls themselves are made of Y-shaped slats. 


HIGHWAYS OF THE SEA. 


663 


between which the air passes as through a Venetian blind. There 
are from six to twelve separate bath-rooms for each sex, provided with 
solid marble tubs, hot and cold, salt and fresh water. The daily bath 
before breakfast is one of the greatest luxuries of tropic voyaging. 
The dining- saloons are usually upon the hurricane deck, and are lighted 
by large, square windows in place of the usual port. Each ship is 
provided with perfect refrigerating apparatus, so that fresh meat, fruit, 
and vegetables are daily features of the menu. The officers are selected 
from among the best families of their respective countries, and are 
educated gentlemen as well as experienced sailors. Among the stew- 
ards there are always enough who are good musicians to form an ex- 
cellent orchestra, which furnishes operatic selections during the dinner- 
hour, and dance-music whenever required. A competent surgeon is 
also included among the ship^s officers. One feature which has always 
been very popular on the P. & O. ships is the employment of Lascars 
and Hindoos as seamen and stewards. Their strange. Oriental costume, 
turbans, and manners make one feel that he is at last en route to the 
fascinating land of the Arabian Nights. 

Of the P. & O. fleet, the handsomest ships are the Caledonia, a 
new twin screw steamer of 7600 tons and 12,000 horse-power, the 
Australia and Himalaya, 7000 tons and 10,000 horse-power, the Ar- 
cadia, Oceana, Victoria, and Britannia, 6500 tons, and a dozen or so 
more, the very names of which recall many a delightful evening in 
the far East, many an Arcadian afternoon under the deck-awnings, to 
their former passengers. 

Of the Orient liners, the Ophir (7000 tons), Ormuz, Oroya, and 
Orizaba (6000 tons) are some of the finest specimens of naval archi- 
tecture afloat. The Ormuz held for some time, if she does not now, 
the record for the fastest passage between London and Sydney, and in 
all my wanderings upon ships of every nationality under the sun I 
never made such a delightful voyage as the one upon her in 1891. 
The unvarying courtesy of her officers and the home-like atmosphere 
of everything about the ship are among my pleasantest recollections 
of life at sea. The Kaiser Wilhelm II., of the Norddeutscher Lloyds, 
was built for the Orient trade and formerly ran to Sydney, but is now, 
I believe, in the Atlantic service. Other fine ships of this line in the 
East are the Karlsruhe, Darmstadt, and Oldenburg (5300 tons), and 
the Bayern, Sachsen, and Preussen (4600 tons). 

The French (Messageries Maritimes) ships — Armand-Behic, Ville 
de la Ciotat, Australien, Polyn6sien, and Malaisien — are twin screw 
ships of 6428 tons register and 7000 horse-power. They have been in 
commission but two or three years, and are floating palaces, like the 
new boats of the P. & O., Orient, Union, and Castle lines. 

The great Spanish line. La Compailia Transatlantica, has several 
fine steam-ships running from Liverpool through the Canal to the 
Philippine Islands. The largest of these are the Buenos Aires (5200 
tons), Isla de Luzon, and Isla de Mindanao (4500 tons). The engine- 
power on these ships is limited, but passengers will find the wines 
exceedingly good and their fellow-travellers possessing much of that 
Andalusian charm which makes Seville and Granada green spots in 


664 


HIGHWAYS OF THE SEA. 


one’s memory. There are many far worse islands rising from the sea 
than the Philippines. 

The smaller steamers in which one travels from Singapore and Ba- 
tavia through the East Indies and along the northeast coast of Australia 
are in the service of the Netherlands India Steam Navigation Company 
and Rotterdam Lloyds, the British India Steam Navigation Company, 
and the Queensland Royal Mail Line, also the Nippon Yusen Kaisha, 
of Japan. The South Sea Islands, New Zealand, and Tasmania are 
reached from Sydney or Melbourne by ships of the Australasian 
United Steam Navigation Company and the Union Steam-Ship Com- 
pany of New Zealand. Ports on the east coast of Africa are reached 
from Aden, Bombay, or Colombo by ships of the British India Steam 
Navigation Company, Messageries Maritimes, and Navigazione Gene- 
rale, or from Cape Town by branch steamers of the Castle and Union 
lines. 

Third and fourth among the ocean post roads come the routes from 
European ports to South Africa and South America via the Atlantic 
islands. The stopping-places are Southampton (or Plymouth), Lisbon, 
Funchal (Madeira), TenerifPe and Las Palmas (Canary Islands), St. 
Vincent, Ascension, St. Helena, Cape Town, South African ports, 
Madagascar, and Mauritius, on the one branch, and Para, Pernambuco, 
Bahia, Rio Janeiro, Montevideo, Buenos Ayres, and Rosario, on the 
other. 

The two leading lines to South Africa are the Union Steam Navi- 
gation Company and the Castle Mail Packet Company (Sir Donald 
Currie’s). The Union line has several magnificent ships, the newest 
of which are the Norman, a 7500-ton twin screw ship of 14,000 horse- 
power, and the Scot, twin screw, 7000 tons and 12,000 horse-power. 
The Norman, which is the latest of the Union liners, has a beautiful 
dome above the dining-saloon, similar to those of the Paris, New York, 
Ophir, Himalaya, and Armand-Behic. Of the Donald Currie ships, 
the finest are the Dunnottar Castle (5500 tons), Hawarden Castle, 
Norham Castle, and Roslin Castle (4200 to 4800 tons) ; and I believe 
there are two new ships about to be placed on the line, if they are 
not already in commission. Both the Union and Castle lines run con- 
necting steamers to Madagascar, Mauritius, Reunion, and Zanzibar. 

As a matter of familiar comparison, it may be stated that of the 
ships entering the port of New York La Normandie is about 7000 
tons, the Lahn 5000, the Spree and the Havel 7000, the City of 
Berlin 5500, and the Aurania 7500; but it must be remembered that 
the new ships of the Eastern and South Atlantic lines, while none of 
them exceeds a tonnage of 7500, are fitted with every improvement 
known in the science of ship-building, and are vastly better ships in every 
way than those of the same size which were built a dozen years ago. 

The principal English lines to the West Indies and South America 
are the Royal Mail Steam Packet Company, sailing out of South- 
ampton, the Pacific Steam Navigation Company, and those of Messrs. 
Lamport & Holt, the funnels of which, with their broad bands of 
black, white, and blue, are such a familiar sight along the water front 
of Brooklyn. 


HIGHWAYS OF THE SEA. 


665 


The Royal Mailers touch at or connect with every port of the 
West Indies, the Mosquito Coast of Central America, and the north 
coast of South America ; while their ships on the River Plate service, 
with those of the Pacific Steam Navigation Company, touch at all im- 
portant ports from Para and Pernambuco down to Buenos Ayres and 
Rosario, the P. S. N. boats continuing the voyage down through Ma- 
gellan Straits and up the west coast to Valparaiso, where they connect 
with branch steamers of their own company and the Compaflia Sud- 
Am^rica de Vapores (Spanish) for all ports between Valparaiso and 
Panama. 

Among the finest of the Royal Mail ships on the West India service 
are the Atrato (5200 tons), Orinoco (4500 tons), Don, and Para (4000 
tons), and on the River Plate service, the La Plata, Nile, Thames, and 
Clyde (6000 tons). 

The Pacific Steam Navigation Company is connected with the 
Orient Steam Navigation Company, already referred to among the 
Eastern lines, and runs fine large ships of practically the same size, 
among which are the Orellana (5000 tons), Iberia (4700 tons), Liguria 
(4700 tons), Sorata (4100 tons), and Aconcagua (4100 tons). 

Other steamers belonging to the principal French, German, Spanish, 
and Italian lines also run to the West Indies and South America. The 
Messageries ships Br4sil, Plata, and Portugal (5500 tons) sail from 
Bordeaux, and stop at Vigo, Lisbon, Dakar (Senegal, West Africa), 
Pernambuco, etc. The Compagnie G6nerale Transatlantique^s steam- 
ships Am^rique, France, Labrador, Canada, St. Laurent, and Ver- 
sailles (4000 to 5000 tons) sail from St.-Nazaire and Marseilles to all 
the prominent ports in the West Indies and on the Gulf of Mexico. 
The Norddeutscher Lloyds ships Strassburg, Weser, Ohio, Baltimore, 
etc., run to Brazil and the Plate, but they are 3000 tons and under in 
size, — too small for comfort on so long a voyage. 

The principal French line to the west coast of Africa (which runs 
also to South American ports) is the Chargeurs Reunis, of Havre 
and Bordeaux ; and in its case I am inclined to make an exception re- 
garding size. The ships of this company vary from 2500 tons to 4000 
(about the size of our own Mallory Line to Texas), but they are models 
of neatness and comfort. The middle Atlantic voyage is usually a 
mild one, and a traveller might enjoy himself very much with these 
genial Frenchmen. 

Of the trans-Pacific lines there are three, the Canadian Pacific, 
the Pacific Mail, and the Oceanic (Spreckels’s line), which charters one 
mail ship (the Monowai, 3500 tons) from the Union Steam-Ship Com- 
pany of New Zealand. Most Americans are familiar with the three 
beautiful ‘‘Empresses” of the Canadian Pacific (twin screw, 6000 
tons, 10,000 horse-power), which are sister ships of the Orient liners 
to Australia, and the good old ships of the Pacific Mail, China, City 
of Peking, City of Para, and City of Rio Janeiro, — the two latter 
having been purchased from the United States and Brazil Mail Steam- 
Ship Company. 

Besides the Spreckels steam-ships to the Sandwich Islands, Samoa, 
New Zealand, and Australia, there is another line over the same route 


666 


TO A SINGER. 


from Tacoma and Vancouver, but, unfortunately for the travelling 
public, the ships of these lines are much too small and too old for the 
Australian voyage, which takes from twenty-two to thirty days. These 
four lines, with the Pacific Coast Steam-Ship Company, touch at every 
Western American port from Alaska to Panama, and connect with the 
great English, French, and German lines in Japan, China, Australia, 
and the South Sea Islands. 

The last and longest of the ocean post roads girdles the world each 
voyage. This is the track followed by ships of the New Zealand 
Shipping Company and Messrs. Shaw, Saville & Albion. Starting 
from Gravesend and Plymouth, these ships touch at Lisbon, Teneriffe, 
Cape Town, Hobart (Tasmania), Wellington (New Zealand), Kio 
Janeiro (around Cape Horn), Teneriffe, and Plymouth. The largest 
of the New Zealand Steam-Ship Company’s fleet are the Ruahine 
(6200 tons), Kaikoura, and Rimutaka (4500 tons). The finest of the 
Shaw, Saville & Albion ships are the Arawa and Tainui (5000 tons), 
and the Coptic, Doric, and Ionic (4800 tons). As a matter of personal 
preference, I should recommend these boats, but by either line this 
voyage is an exceptionally fine one, and aftbrds opportunity to see almost 
every part of the world by transferring at the connecting points. 

A description of our own American coast lines to the West Indies and 
South America has been omitted, because they are so well known, and 
full information concerning them is so easily obtainable of any tourist 
agent in the United States. There are also innumerable smaller lines, 
the ships of which cross the ocean in every direction. 

With the foregoing data, it is a simple matter for people who really 
wish to pry into strange corners of the earth to do so at their ease, and 
by the time they have purchased their letters of credit, and packed up 
a shirt, tooth-brush, travelling-rug, and pith helmet, they will find that 
most of the companies enumerated have added yet finer and larger 
ships to their fleets. There is a sense of personal affection which grows 
upon one with each succeeding day upon a fine modern steam-ship, — 
a feeling of rest, security, and homely pleasure, — until, when one steps 
ashore at last, the pang of homesickness is real. Intensifying this 
feeling is the fascination of life at sea, which after the first really long 
voyage seizes upon the traveller and grows stronger and stronger year 
by year, until to be once more on blue water, out of sight of land, 
becomes one of his dearest hopes. 

Clarence Herbert New. 


TO A SINGER. 


T hou hast a gift of gifts : go seek for bliss 

In far, strange lands, through long and weary years, 
Thou wilt not find a sweeter boon than this, — 

The power to move thy listeners to tears. 


Clarence Urmy. 


RES AC A. 


667 


RES AC A, 

I. 

M any an old soldier may remember the house : it stood on a hill 
overlooking the railroad and the distant bridge across a deep, 
narrow Southern river. There was a red clay wagon-road winding 
along between some angular fields and the dense bushy woods of the 
knobby foot-hills close to the mountains. 

In some of the fields the wheat was young and green, and in others 
the corn was ankle-high, showing careful husbandry and a propitious 
season. 

This house of which you are reading was a house of sorrow, for it 
had lost its master and his four stalwart sons, all killed in battle, and 
at the time when my story begins three women were the occupants of 
the place, and they had three faithful negro servants to depend upon. 

One must reflect a moment in order to get the full import of the 
phrase a faithful negro servant,’^ as applied to the slaves remaining 
with their masters at a time when it would have been so easy for them 
to assert their freedom. I speak with knowledge. 

Let no white man for an instant suppose that the negroes were 
not keenly alive to their chains and intensely hungry for liberty. In 
the secrecy of the cabin the subject of bondage and the possibility of 
escape was the burden of discussion. Necessarily the negro was to a 
degree deceitful ; but he was not treacherous ; he simply desired and 
discussed freedom furtively while he openly simulated a good-natured 
and almost jolly contentment. 

The masters of the South were deceived by their slaves in many 
instances, but the deception was always of a negative sort. Many 
masters actually thought that their trusted and happy negroes would 
refuse liberty even if the North should succeed in the war. A few 
actually did refuse it, out of great love for master and mistress and a 
sentimental attachment for the old plantation. 

Mrs. Farrow and her two daughters, Julia and Margaret, had great 
reason to trust Uncle Duff, Aunt Saluda, and Sam, three as coal-black 
and genial Africans as ever sang their way through slavery ; for there 
had been a great test when Sherman’s army, on its way from Chatta- 
nooga to Atlanta, had succeeded in taking away from the Farrow 
plantation nearly everything in the shape of chattels except these 
slaves, who hid in the woods until all the soldiers were gone, then 
came shyly back to their cabin and their humble domestic allegiance. 

Sam was a short, stout fellow, neither man nor boy, rather sluggish, 
but always smiling, when not guffawing, and perfectly willing to work 
if he must. As for Uncle Duff and Aunt Saluda, they were typical 
old slaves of the ‘‘up-country,” self-conceited, fond of a pipe and a 
’possum, and always ready to do some act of kindness in behalf of their 
white superiors. 

From the Farrow homestead you could see almost to Resaca in one 


668 


RES AC A. 


direction and nearly to Dalton in another direction. When the fight- 
ing was on, it shook the whole country. Up there at E,ocky-Face and 
then over at Snake Creek Gap the noise did not seem to be a mile 
distant. When at last it began at Resaca, the house felt the concus- 
sions so much that the glass was broken in the windows and the boards 
rattled on the roof of the porch. The first gun down by the bridge 
hurled the three negroes into the white folks’ house as though they had 
been shot from it. Their eyes were white, their faces shrivelled with 
terror, and their mouths agape in utter consternation. 

De good Lord !” gasped Uncle Duff; “dey’s er-comin’ ! dey’s er- 
comiu’, sho’ !” 

Aunt Saluda and Sam were too frightened to say anything or even 
make a sound. 

Mrs. Farrow went to the door and looked forth over the plantation 
to the river. A ring of white smoke was floating above and beyond 
the bridge. Farther down the stream a body of cavalry was under 
shelter of the bank. Just then she could not think of what was hap- 
pening, for in her heart had surged up the memory of her dead hus- 
band and sons. 

A railway train came up the track, the engine behind, and stopped 
in front of the house. A regiment of infantry rushed out of the cars 
and formed across a field. The engine whistled, and the train went 
back the way it had come. 

Uncle Duff, hearing the noise, began to pray ; Aunt Saluda joined 
him fervently ; Sam listened stupidly and in sufiocating terror. 

Fifteen cannon thundered together, over beyond the bridge, and 
a flight of shells in the air made a prolonged whirring noise, fol- 
lowed presently by a rapid spluttering of musketry in the woods at 
the lower edge of the plantation. The regiment went across the field 
at double quick step, knocking over the fences as they came in the 
way. 

‘‘ Oh, good Lor’, ef ye kin spa’ de ole man er leetle bit longer ” 

began Uncle Duff, but his prayer was interrupted by an explosion on 
both sides of the river, rival batteries thundering at one another, and 
opposing lines of infantry exchanging long rolling volleys. 

Mrs. Farrow saw the cavalry scurry away from their lurking-place 
under the river bank and disappear in the woods, while four or five 
heavy field-guns, drawn by panting and overworked horses, trundled 
rapidly along the red clay road, the drivers whipping and swearing. 

After a few rounds there came a short lull in the bombardment, 
during which a singular serenity pervaded the air and sky. 

“ Dar, now. Lor’, stop de wa’ right heah, an’ lef’ de ole darky ” 

But Uncle Duff sprang to his feet as another awful cannonade 
began, and a shell burst on the railroad-track in front of the door. 
He forgot his prayer. 

^^Hell an’ fury!” he cried, ^^dat’s dangerous! Gi’ me my hat, 
fo’ de Lor’ sake ! I’s gwine outen yer !” And he rushed through the 
back door- way and across the garden to the woods, followed by Sam 
and Aunt Saluda. 

Mrs. Farrow did not notice the flight of her slaves : she was 


RES AC A. 


669 


fascinated by the scene before her. As for Julia and Margaret, they 
sat on the edge of a bed in dumb horror, clasped in each other^s 
arms. 

All day the fight raged beyond the river and beyond the woods 
and among the hills to the west. Officers and couriers rode back and 
forth along the road, and now and again a train of cars backed up to 
bring soldiers or supplies or to take away the wounded. The earth 
shook, and the air palpitated strangely. 

The house was not in the battle-field, but stray shells fell near it at 
intervals. Some of them burst, others merely buried themselves in 
the ground or bounded along with a heavy thumping sound peculiarly 
suggestive of energy. 

Over in the hills, apparently between Resaca and Snake Creek 
Gap, the firing was ceaseless ; it sounded like a heavy throbbing wind 
with rain and hail and rattling thunder and the rending of forests and 
the crashing of rocks and hills. Ever and anon there was a charge 
announced by thousands of voices yelling and by the redoubling of 
the musketry at some point. 

All day and into the night the firing was kept up at tempest pitch, 
while the women at the Farrow house, huddled together and silent, 
listened and listened. 

It must have been near midnight when utter silence fell over the 
valley and hills, silence quite awful after such a din. It was the 
silence of death. 

I hope it is over at last,” said Mrs. Farrow, her voice sounding 
hollow and as if it were lost. 

“ If our side has gained a victory I thank God,” responded Mar- 
garet. 

I have been praying for it, oh, so fervently !” Julia exclaimed, 
with her hands still clasped in a supplicating way. 

But I fear, I fear,” faltered the mother, I fear that we have 
lost. Something tells me that our army is going back.” 

The young ladies looked at each other and shuddered. They had 
read of how women fared who fell in the way of soldiers after battle, 
and their imagination was inflamed with the thought. Even at that 
moment footsteps were heard at the threshold and gruff voices de- 
manded admittance. 

Mrs. Farrow arose and turned toward the door. Her daughters 
clung to her with nervous hands. 

^^No, no,” they cried, in sharp, desperate whispers; ‘^you must 
not let them in.” 

Kick it down if they don’t open it,” exclaimed a heavy, deter- 
mined voice. “ Hurry !” 

ni open it. I’m coming,” answered Mrs. Farrow, shaking her- 
self free from the arms of her daughters. She had heard a groan. 

They have a wounded man,” she said, going to the door and unlock- 
ing it. 

Four soldiers, dressed in the Federal uniform and bearing a young 
officer on a litter, came promptly in, followed by a fifth, who carried a 
gun. 


670 


RES AC A. 


‘‘Put him on the bed there,” said Mrs. Farrow, in a trembling 
voice, and she hurriedly smoothed the pillows. 

They obeyed. Both the young man’s legs were bandaged at the 
thigh. He was moaning and in an almost insensible condition. The 
soldiers who bore him seemed to be in a great hurry and nearly ex- 
hausted. 

“ They’ll be on us in a minute. Make haste !” the leader said, 
fretfully. 

“Madam, I trust him to your humanity,” he added, turning to 
Mrs. Farrow. “We shall have to leave him. There’s nothing else 
to do.” 

“ Good-by, captain,” they all said in turn, but the hurt man moaned 
as if he did not hear them. 

“ Please be good to him, madam,” the leader added, in a low, re- 
gretful tone. “ We are sorry to have to leave him ; he is the best 
and the bravest man in the world. Will you nurse him kindly?” 

“Yes, I will,” said Mrs. Farrow. “I will do my best.” 

“ Thank you, dear madam,” he said, and then they went away as 
mysteriously as they had come, leaving their burden behind. 

It is difficult to realize, in this time of peace, a predicament like 
that, — a Union officer left in an almost dying condition to be cared 
for by women whose nearest and dearest ones had died, as it were, by 
his hands, and who now felt that an invader was at their door ready 
to do worse than kill. This was not an uncommon thing in those 
days, however, and many a wounded man was nursed back from the 
shadow of death to life and happiness by the bereaved women of his 
enemy. 

Thus it was that Captain Hugh Long, a gallant Union soldier, 
came into the Farrow home. He was wounded in a cavalry skir- 
mish on the outskirts of the battle of Resaca. His companions, one 
of whom was a surgeon, finding it impossible to do better with him, 
dressed his hurts as best they could and took him to the house, think- 
ing that they should report his whereabouts to the proper officer at 
once ; but they were captured twenty minutes later and were hustled 
away to Atlanta. 

Next morning there was a fight, a furious struggle, at the ferry, a 
mile or two below the bridge, and then Johnston fell back and Sher- 
man advanced, the two grand armies sweeping on down past Calhoun 
and Adairsville, leaving the Farrow place desolate indeed; for the 
stragglers and foragers and thieves came and pillaged the house and 
plantation, taking everything eatable and wearable, as well as all the 
horses, mules, and cattle. 

Meantime, Uncle Duff, Aunt Saluda, and Sam were hiding some- 
where in the woods. They crept back to the house, however, when the 
armies and wagon-trains and camp-followers had all disappeared. Wild- 
eyed, haggard, trembling, the poor things came to the door just at 
dusk. 

“ Missus, mis-s-sus,” whined Uncle Duff, “ ’fore de Lor’ we done 
’mos’ starve ter def. Is der any col’ brayd er taters in de cubby ?” 


RES AC A. 


671 


11 . 

It is a memory set far back in a hazy perspective, but it can never 
quite fade from the hearts of those who experienced it, — that desola- 
tion left behind it by the grand invading army of Sherman. Pen can- 
not picture it, words, no matter how cunningly phrased, are powerless 
to describe it, or even strongly indicate it. Looking out from the door- 
way at Farrow place, the view was like that which one imagines when 
one reads the Bible words, ‘^Thou art given over to a desolation, and 
henceforth there shall be none coming in or going forth.” The wheat- 
fields were trampled bare, the long green rows of corn had disappeared ; 
not a rail of all the fences was left; no domestic animal was in sight, 
and the stillness and silence were rendered all the more emphatic by 
the balmy mid-May weather which hung over mountain, hill, and 
valley. 

This complete destruction of the material support of the household 
at Farrow place matched perfectly with the moral depression in the 
hearts of those who were left in the midst of the desolation. 

After the awful storm and nervous excitement the reaction was 
almost unbearable. 

The wounded man lay on the bed, his face as white as the sheets, 
and his eyes closed. He seemed scarcely to breathe, and his moaning 
had ceased entirely. Luckily, his wounds, a fracture of each leg, had 
been properly cared for in the first place by a good and conscientious 
surgeon, or he must have died at once. As it was, he lay for days and 
weeks more dead than alive, quite unaware of his place or of his 
condition. Indeed, he was one of the lost in battle, one of those who 
disappeared, leaving no clue behind by which friends might learn the 
truth that lurked under a screen of awful doubt and suspense. 

In his Northern home loved ones mourned for him with just a faint 
flicker of hope in their dark sorrow. He might be heard from yet ; 
he might have got lost from his command, or, if a prisoner, he might 
have escaped and set about working his way homeward. Love clings 
to all such and even more shadowy suggestions. 

To the household at Farrow place his presence was a distressing, 
a terrible reality. Not one of them, black or white, knew anything 
about how to dress such wounds as these, and the sufferer was abso- 
lutely helpless, nay, worse than helpless. 

After the first few days, however, optimistic as the statement may 
appear, it became a peculiarly sweet duty, shared by all the household, 
to wait upon and minister to the sick enemy. He was a stalwart and 
handsome man, in the June of life, and he was a very pathetic picture 
as he lay there wasting slowly away to a shadow of himself. 

The ladies relieved one another, watching beside him in turn, whilst 
the negroes set about trying to get certain patches of the plantation 
into cultivation again. Some hoes were the only implements left, but 
these could be used to good effect by such strong and willing workers. 

A strange thing happened that summer in North Georgia, which 
saved from starvation the unfortunate people over whom the armies 
had run. There was an unprecedented season of showers, and the 


672 


RES AC A. 


young corn, that had been trampled into the earth by camping thou- 
sands of men, horses, mules, wagon-trains, and artillery, came up again 
green and strong. In many instances it even matured finely without 
any cultivation. It looked as if Nature knew what was demanded of 
her ; and, there being no live stock to eat or trample the corn, fences 
were not needed. 

To Uncle DufiP^s great delight, the wheat, too, revived somewhat, 
so that patches of it matured the grain. 

De good Lor^ know he people,^^ said that pious soul ; ‘^an’ he 
gwine ter see ^em froo de tight places.” 

He prayed loud and long, night and morning, and sang melodious 
old hymns of praise ; but one day when a Federal force was passing 
with some cattle for the army, now down near Marietta, and a scudding 
force of Confederate cavalry attacked them, the old man rushed into 
the house in a blaspheming mood, crying out, — 

Dod blast dey eberlastin’ souls, dar dey come ag’in, debbil take 
’em !” 

The conflict between Uncle Duff’s piety and his proficiency in the 
art of phrasing expletives was very fierce just at this point : 

Bress de deah Lor’, wha’ we gwine ter do now ? Des as I gits 
dat co’n all nice an’ dat wheat all ready, yer come de debblish sojers 
ag’in, a-shootin’ an’ a-stealin’ an’ — an’ — a-cussin’ an’ a-rarin’ an’ 
a-trompin’ ober de fiel’s ! Lor’, I done pray an’ pray fo’ yo’ ter keep 
’em away, an’ wuz a-relyin’ on yo’ a-doin’ it, an’ yit yer dey is ag’in, 
dam’ ’em, jes’ like hell bust loose er pu’pose !” 

Sure enough, there they were, a long line of blue stretching across 
the river-bottom fields and into the woods, with four cannon on the 
hill a little farther away, and three more right in the road, not a quarter 
of a mile from the house. 

And promptly on the moment, like three black crows, away flew 
the negroes again, disappearing in the woods in search of the hiding- 
place known only to them. 

The wounded captain by this time had begun to convalesce. In- 
deed, he was far along toward recovery, owing to the tireless atten- 
tions of the ladies ; but he could not get out of his bed, and his wounds 
required constant care. 

The first gun of the skirmish startled him ; his face lit up, and he 
tried to lift himself so as to look out of the little mul Honed window 
hard by. He felt the stimulus of battle. 

What is it?” he asked, breathlessly. Is Sherman falling back ? 
Is the army in sight ?” 

Mrs. Farrow went to his bedside and tried to explain, but she was 
almost speechless with excitement, almost overcome with the thought 
that at last, perhaps, the invaders were being driven out of Georgia. 
But before she could formulate a statement with a view of quieting 
the captain, the cannon began to thunder, and the sound of musketry 
rattled off* across the fields like the pattering of a rapidly receding 
shower. 

The old terror returned to the breasts of the young women, but 
they could not refrain from looking out on the conflict. 


RES AC A. 


673 


III. 

Captain Long had been in a delirium a great part of the time that 
he had lain at Farrow place, and now, when, with dilating eyes and 
flushed face, he almost fiercely struggled to overcome his weakness and 
sit up, his attendants thought his trouble had returned to his brain. 

The battle, as is often the case with the meeting of small forces, 
was intensely fierce and stubborn. The field-pieces were firing at short 
range, not more than three hundred yards, and the dismounted cavalry 
were blazing away at one another, the lines almost within a stone’s 
throw as they faced, one sheltered by a slight depression in the field, 
the other by a scattering wood and bushy hill. The Confederates were 
nearer the house than were the Federal s, and appeared to have the ad- 
vantage in both numbers and position. 

Like the girl in Ivanhoe, Mrs. Farrow, with wildly beating heart 
and fascinated gaze, kept watch and reported the progress of the fight 
to the wounded man, who all the time was trying to command the 
window, a thing quite impossible. 

Suddenly two light field-guns were rolled up to the very gate of 
the yard, and there swiftly whirled into position, aimed, and fired. 
The house fairly rocked under the concussion. 

‘‘They are coming! they are coming!” cried Mrs. Farrow, as the 
Federals poured out from their cover and rushed up the acclivity to- 
ward the guns, that were being served with grape. Now the bullets 
began to hit the house and sing through the door-way and window ; a 
shell struck one of the cannon, and, knocking off a wheel, flung it 
over into the yard, where it fell upon a man and crushed him to 
death. 

The uproar became appalling; it was like an earthquake and a 
cyclone combined ; but it was soon over. The Confederates drove the 
Federals back upon the river, and there captured most of them and all 
their cattle and provisions. 

To the Farrow household the result was merely another wounded 
captain left on their hands. 

This Captain Number Two was a Confederate, and had fallen almost 
in the door at Mrs. Farrow’s feet. She saw him come dashing up the 
road in the hottest of the fight, mounted on a thin, wiry horse. As 
he reached the yard fence he gave his animal a lift and cleared the top 
rail easily, shouting some orders in a ringing voice. The next moment 
a swarm of bullets hummed past, and he fell with both arms broken 
and an ugly wound in his side ; but he managed to get upon his feet 
and totter into the house. 

Two or three of his men, seeing his mishap, followed him. A 
surgeon was soon found, who bound the broken limbs. 

Strangely enough, both of these captains had the name of Long ; 
and there they lay side by side on the same bed. They managed to 
look into each other’s eyes, and then they glared and made meaning- 
less motions with their lips. 

“ Tom Long, what the devil are you doing here ?” exclaimed the 
Federal, in a breathless way, a peculiar light in his eyes. 

VoL. LVII.— 43 


674 


RES AC A. 


Well, Hugh ! Well, I’ll be Where’d you come from?” re- 

sponded the Confederate. They then gazed hard at each other in 
silence. 

“Hurt badly?” inquired the Federal, a little later; and by this 
time his voice was almost tender. But the Confederate had fainted 
from loss of blood and the agony of nerve-lesion : he could not 
answer. 

The negroes came back again when all danger had passed. Uncle 
DuflP arrived first, Aunt Saluda and Sam following at safe intervals. 

“ Bress de good Lor’ !” cried Duff, “ wha’ we gwine ter fin’ nuff 
ter eat, wid anudder all-shot-up whi’ man on our ban’s? Tell me 
dat!” 

It was hard indeed ; for this last fight had destroyed all the supplies 
that the household had gathered together, and trampled down all the 
growing grain of the fields. 

“ Got ter hab some eatables, eben ef we got ter — ter — jes’ got ter 
comfuscate it,” said Duff to Sam. “ Fatin’ is got ter go on, ef de 
debbil lib under de table.” 

That very night a sack of corn and a side of bacon came from 
some mysterious source beyond the mountain. Aunt Saluda made 
hominy in place of bread, and fried slender bits of bacon. Some 
basket fish-traps in the river furnished a good supply of catfish. 

“ Stealin’, yo’ calls dis heah ? S’pose’n’ it is sorter like it? Dem 
po’ shot-ter-pieces sojers a-layin’ dar in de baid hab got ter eat,” argued 
Uncle Duff with his own conscience, as he crept off every night on 
distant predatory excursions from which he rarely returned empty- 
handed. 

Meantime, the two bedfellows had found a subject of quarrel. 


IV. 

“ Well, Tom Long, I never had expected to find a brother of mine, 
an own blood brother, fighting as a rebel against the flag of his 
country !” exclaimed the Federal. “ I’m everlastingly ashamed of you, 
Tom !” 

“ And what are you doing away off down here in Georgia where 
you’ve no business, Hugh Long ?” retorted the Confederate. “ You’re 
a nice fellow, I must say, bumming around and burning houses, steal- 
ing cattle, robbing pig-pens and hen-roosts and truck-gardens ! Don’t 
you feel rather small ? I should if I were you.” 

“I’ve not been doing anything of the sort,” exclaimed Hugh. 
“I’m no thief, thank you, sir. I’m a Union soldier.” 

“ Well, I take notice that wherever you fellows go, you don’t 
leave much,” said Tom, sarcastically, and he turned his head so as to 
glare at his brother. 

“ Leave much !” cried Hugh ; “ leave much ! There’s been nothing 
to leave but goober peas and a few measly, knotty sweet potatoes. Your 
whole blamed country isn’t worth a good cow ! Leave much !” 

“And what sort of a country is yours, I’d like to know? I’ve 


RESACA. 


675 


been there. Nothing but snow in winter, mud in spring, dust in 
summer, and ague in the autumn ! Blast your blasted country ! Go 
back and live in it, and let ours alone. What do I care for your in- 
fernal country 

“ Tom Long, you’re a traitor !” 

Hugh Long, you’re a liar !” 

Hugh actually struck Tom, and Tom kicked savagely at Hugh. 
They made the bedstead creak as they struggled. 

“Heah, now! Heah, now!” spluttered Uncle Duff; ‘‘dis not 
gwine ter ’mount ter nuffin’. We’s not er-gwine ter hab no fightin’ 
an’ flouncin’ roun’ heah, so yo’ raought jes’ es well stop!” and he 
clutched the combatants and shook them savagely. Be quiet, now, 
er I jes’ smash yo’ bofe! swa’ ter glory I will!” 

The young ladies stood by aghast, but Uncle Duff, with that mas- 
terly insight common to old house-servants, saw that each had her 
preference in the struggle. 

Yo’ gent’men done disgrace yo’selbs afo’ de young missuses ! Jes’ 
look how dey’s done er-cryin’ dey eyes out ! Hain’t yo’ ’shame’ o’ yo’ 
no-’count selbs now? yo’ po’ triflin’ whi’ trash ! Da’s jes’ w’at yo’ is !” 

The young women ran out of the room with their hands over their 
faces. 

Swa’ to de Lor’, gent’men, ef I wuz er whi’ man I’d jes’ erbout 
poun’ de life out’n bofe ob ye, dat I would, fo’ er fac’ !” growled Duff, 
as he stood leaning over the bed. Yo’s a pooty -lookin’ mess, now, 
ain’t yo’ !” 

The irate brothers felt the situation and began to laugh, despite the 
pain their struggle and excitement had stirred up in their wounds. 
Duff took breath, and continued : 

“ Heah I done been er-stealin’ bacon an’ co’n an’ chicken an’ taters 
fo’ yo’ all folks, an’ Saluda she been er-cookin’ fo’ yo’, an’ de young 
missuses dey been er-tookin’ keer ob yo’ ; and den w’at yo’ doin’? 
W’y, heah yo’ is a-cussin’ an’ a-fightin’ jes’ like two drunk po’ whi’ 
folks ! Hit’s outdacious, gent’men, p’intedly outdacious ! Yo’s bofe 
a-actin’ de dam fool !” 

“ Well, you get out of here, or I’ll break your black neck !” ex- 
claimed Tom. I’ll wear a hole in the floor with you, you impudent 
old scoundrel !” 

‘^How yo’ gwine ter, w’en yo’ got bofe arms broke?” inquired 
Duff. Yo’s no mor’n a ole woman des now.” 

Hugh laughed uproariously, and despite himself Tom joined him. 
Duff, however, remained quite dignified and solemn. He straightened 
himself up, folded his heavy arras, and said, in a measured voice, — 

“ Mebbe yo’ don’t observe dat I’s er free pusson, — dat I done got 
my pussonal liberty, same lak any whi’ man ? Ef yo’ hain’t notice 
dat, mebbe yo’ better begin yo’ noticin’ now. Dey’s no use er-scufflin’ 
ergin’ Probid ence.” 

Talk up to him, Duff. I’ll stand by you,” said Hugh, still 
chuckling heartily. “ You’re a free man, and pretty nearly white.” 

Tom was furious, but he curbed his tongue, for just then Mrs. 
Farrow came in and sent Duff about his business. 


676 


RES AC A. 


That is a very intelligent old colored gentleman,” observed Hugh. 

He seems to take in the situation.” 

A despicable old negro fraud,” said Tom. I should like to strap 
him. I will strap him just as soon as I am well. Fll settle with 
him !” 

Mrs. Farrow quickly changed the subject of conversation. She 
had grown to like both the captains while nursing them. In some 
way they had almost dropped into the places of her dead sons. Her 
efforts in their behalf had served to blunt in a degree the point of her 
sorrow, by keeping her mind occupied. 

As for the young ladies, the most natural thing in the world hap- 
pened to them. The captains were intelligent and handsome men, evi- 
dently honorable and true-hearted, with a great fund of humor and not 
a little sly moonshine in their hearts. 

Tom, being hurt only in the arms, got well first, and immediately 
went away in search of his command. Hugh had to linger on. In- 
deed, he was still on his crutches when the news of Lee’s and John- 
ston’s surrender reached the Farrow household. By this time Margaret 
had agreed to marry him. 

Meanwhile, not a word had come from Tom, and Julia’s face had 
grown sad and thin ; but Tom was all safe and sound, nevertheless, 
trudging his weary way from I^orth Carolina, over the mountains and 
streams, as straight as possible back to Farrow place. 


V. 

Those were hard days, — much harder, indeed, than the days of 
battle. It would be a strong imagination that could portray them in 
anything like real lines. From Chattanooga to Atlanta, from Atlanta 
to Savannah, from Savannah through the Carolinas northward to 
Richmond, the whole country was a desolation, burned, trampled, pil- 
laged, and then left at the mercy of a set of deserters, robbers, and 
thieves, the offscourings of both noble armies. 

For a year, after the surrender all the mountain region of the South 
was the home of countless bands of desperadoes, who lived by robbery, 
horse-stealing, illicit distilling, and almost every other unlawful prac- 
tice. Through this region and among these wild adventurers Tom 
made his way slowly and with many an enforced delay. He did not 
expect to find his loyal brother still lingering at Farrow place, but the 
first person he saw was Hugh, sitting on the little stoop, talking to 
Margaret. The Western and Atlantic Railroad had been put in order, 
and letters had passed between the Union soldier and his parents in the 
North. He had informed the latter of Tom’s disloyalty, but they had 
not seemed to be willing that even a rebel son should eat the husks of 
the prodigal. They certainly exhibited, so far as they could in a letter, 
more concern about Tom’s welfare, seeing that it was in doubt, than 
about loyal Hugh’s. 

“ That’s the way mother and father always were,” said Hugh : 
^^they always liked that scapegrace Tom better than me.” With the 


DISTANCE. 677 

words in his mouth he looked up, and there stood Tom right under his 
nose. 

No man could have been more picturesque than was Captain Long 
as he halted at the steps of the stoop and eagerly gazed into the house. 

‘‘Where is Julia?’’ were his first words. 

He was brown and stalwart, long-haired, shaggy-bearded, and 
dirty. The coat that he wore was out at both elbows and had lost one 
division of its tail ; his trousers, besides having got rid of most of one 
leg, were pinned together by wooden pegs and. patched and pieced with 
parti-colored rags; a dilapidated “ homespun” shirt, collarless and but- 
tonless, was particularly baggy and frayed where his vest would have 
been if he had had one, and his hat was comically tattered, what there 
was left of it. Such boots as he wore would disgust a professional 
tramp; one had a long leg, the other was notably short, and both were 
without soles in great part, disclosing the absence of stockings. 

Hugh knew Tom’s voice as soon as he heard it, but it was hard to 
recognize his handsome brother in that mongrel-looking being standing 
there ragged and unkempt as a drunken beggar. 

“ Where is Julia?” he repeated, with a strange grim smile, which 
was almost a scowl. 

There was a little low cry, the rustle of a dress, and Julia almost 
overturned both Hugh and Margaret as she rushed past them and flung 
her arms around Tom’s neck. Tears gushed out of Tom’s eyes. 

Uncle Duff from the kitchen door, where he was smoking his cob 
pipe, saw his young mistress perform this reckless feat, and was utterly 
disgusted thereat. 

“ Bress de Lor’ !” he muttered, “ bress de deah Lor’ ! Ef I’d er 
’spected ’at dem young leddies wuz er-gwine ter tek up wid any sich 
low-down po’ whi’ trash, I’d er let dem dar cap’ns bofe starve right 
dar in de baid, sho’s yo’ bo’n, Saluda, dat I would, fo’ er fac’ ! Heah 
I been a-stealin’ bacon an’ co’n an’ chickens and taters all dis time, an’ 
dis yer’s w’at it comes to, dog-gone de luck ! What do freedom ’mount 
ter, anyhow ? Dern po’ eend ter all dis shootin’ an’ fightin’ !” 

But, in spite of Duff’s vigorous objections, the brothers married the 
sisters, and are to-day very happy men. 

Hugh gets a pension ; but Tom says he doesn’t care, so long as his 
wife is so much prettier than Hugh’s. 

Maurice Thompson. 


DISTANCE. 

D ISTANCE bides not afar in space; 

Oft may we meet it face to face. 

Touch its warm hand, look in its eyes. 

List to its greetings and replies. 

No farther than the nearest heart. 

And yet a thousand worlds apart. 

Ida Whipple Benham. 


678 


BED AND BOARD IN RUSSIA. 


BED AND BOARD IN RUSSIA. 

O UR first thought on arriving in St. Petersburg, in view of the 
protracted stay which we had in contemplation, was to seek 
quarters elsewhere than in a hotel. Our idea was to find board with 
some nice Russian family, for the sake of the constant practice in the 
language, experiences,’’ and the atmosphere.” 

We were very speedily forced to renounce that plan. The boarding- 
house is one of the questionable benefits of civilization which remain 
unknown to Russia so far. It is safe to say that if it did exist it 
would not be kept by a Russian. Russians of the better class have 
not discovered the genteel” myth of receiving a few paying friends” 
into the bosom of their family “ for company.” We wasted a great 
deal of time in inspecting several recommended families who were 
willing to make the experiment to oblige us,” and we took the pre- 
caution of dropping in upon them at meal-times. One look was 
enough. It was but too plainly apparent that, though their ignorance 
of any language but their own was all that we could desire, their igno- 
rance in some other respects was far beyond all reasonable requirements. 

However, we profited by our investigations to the extent of viewing 
localities and styles of living which we should never have beheld under 
any other circumstances. We advertised. That was not a very prompt 
mode of action, because the advertisement only appeared on the second 
or third day after it had been handed in, owing to the necessity for 
submitting it to censorship. The replies were not satisfactory. We 
turned to the advertisements of furnished lodgings, expressed in the 
hieroglyph ical and economical style peculiar to the Russian Wants” 
column : To let : fur., 3 hand, apart, sun. si. st.” (furnished, three 
handsome apartments, sunny side of the street), and so on. That is as 
near as I can come to the style in English. 

Though it was late in the season to find desirable furnished lodgings, 
we saw a sufficient number of what struck us as extremely undesirable 
rooms to make us feel very incapable and helpless. We came to dread 
the sight of the huge apartment-houses, after we had climbed a few 
dozen miles of stairs in our search. Private houses are rare, by com- 
parison, in St. Petersburg. 

When Peter the Great began his new capital, with such indomitable 
energy that the workmen were forced to excavate the earth with their 
hands and carry it away in the skirts of their coats for lack of proper 
implements, he determined not to let events take their own slow course 
in the matter of providing a suitable population and buildings on a 
scale worthy of the occasion. He ordered the rich nobles, who already 
possessed magnificent establishments in their beloved Moscow, to re- 
move to St. Petersburg and to erect there mansions in proportion to 
their wealth. In order that there might be no parsimonious miscal- 
culations in this combined census- and tax-affidavit, so to speak, he 
prescribed a certain number of feet frontage on the street for every 


BED AND BOARD IN RUSSIA. 


679 


hundred serfs owned by the noble builder. The list of serfs from the 
last revision formed a solid basis for his royal calculations, and could 
not be disputed by recalcitrant grandees. The latter obeyed these 
orders with great reluctance, and this probably accounts for the very 
plain architecture of the two or three buildings which are still extant, 
without remodelling, from Peter’s day, including a couple of his own 
palaces,” which resemble brick and stucco copies of the plainest, 
cheapest sort of an American frame house in the country, with the 
gables at right angles to the street. 

The fashion of huge buildings was perpetuated in the apartment- 
houses, which often have entrances on two or three streets, and are all 
constructed round a spacious court-yard, or several court-yards, in the 
centre, which furnish abundant light and air. As in the case of pri- 
vate houses, therefore, we may always assume that the street frontage 
represents only half, or two-thirds at most, of the actual area occupied. 
In private houses much room is required for the very numerous ser- 
vants, certain classes of whom are allowed to keep house with their 
families in little suites of rooms opening on the court-yard. 

In apartment-houses, the lodgings which open on the court-yard 
rent for a lower price, because the entrance is through a porte-coch^e, 
or, at night, through a wicket therein. This is an unobjectionable, 
rather an aristocratic, arrangement in a private house ; but elsewhere 
the court-yard may contain too many stables, workshops, or even a 
large number of cows to supply dairy-shops, which profess to deal in 
Finnish — that is to say, in pure, country — butter, cream, and milk. 
In this case, also, the winter’s supply of wood for the great house is 
sure to be stacked in piles a couple of stories high, so close to the less 
desirable lodgings that the prefect of the town was obliged to issue an 
order protecting the poorer inhabitants, and regulating the position of 
the wood-piles at a proper distance from the building for light and 
air. 

Our researches revealed the fact that very few furnished” lodgings 
provided either towels, bed-linen, coverlets, or pillows, or anything, 
in fact, beyond the bare bedsteads and furniture. Of course we were 
aware, theoretically, that this is a reminiscence of the days when every 
landed proprietor travelled accompanied by an entire housekeeping 
outfit and staff of servants, when he undertook those long carriage 
journeys which preceded the days of railways, and which are still 
compulsory in some parts of the empire. Nevertheless, in practice, we 
were not prepared to accept this, beyond towels, and we protested that 
no traveller should be obliged to drag such bulky objects about with 
him, in these days of improved transit facilities. The logic of this 
argument was not very strong on our side, it is true, but most travellers 
will agree with us nevertheless. The Kussian lodging-house people, 
in return, seemed to regard us with amazement and pity because we did 
not possess these things and declined to purchase them. Their idea 
must have been that we were accustomed to sleep in our clothes, like 
their own peasants. 

In some cases they were willing to provide the bed-furnishings, for 
a consideration ; but they regarded one towel a week, and one change 


680 


BED AND BOARD IN RUSSIA. 


of linen a month, as ample. That arrangement did not meet with our 
approbation either. We were hard to suit, I admit. 

Then there was the problem of food. The use of the samovdr 
twice a day, and of the tea-things, the services of the servant, to fetch 
bread, cream, and any other light food desired for the morning meal and 
for tea, are included in the price of the lodging, — nominally. In prac- 
tice, the lodging-house-keeper pays the servants nothing, and expects 
them to live upon fees from the lodgers. But the solid meals? There 
was the rub, especially for women. Some of the lodging-house- 
keepers were willing to furnish the mid-day breakfast, or even dinner. 
But their ideas proved, on investigation, not to coincide with ours. In 
their opinion, for example, a fine course dinner consisted of cabbage 
soup, boiled beef, and a pancake for dessert, at the same price asked in 
the hotels for a genuine meal. I hinted to one woman — an old Little 
Russian, who was so fat that she had passed the spherical stage and 
become square, who pronounced corridor kalydor, and other words to 
match — that this bill of fare seemed to be somewhat limited and 
monotonous. 

But think of the view !’’ she retorted. 

It appeared that her lodgers were expected to feast upon the sight 
of the Anitchkoff Palace, — the Emperor’s residence in winter, — oppo- 
site, and upon the window of his study in particular. 

I admitted that it would be truly luxurious to feast upon glimpses 
of the Emperor and his family, — when they were to be had ; “ but,” I 
inquired, “ how is one to subsist until their arrival from Denmark, and 
during their absences?” 

The old woman vaunted the beauty of her ‘‘ suites of apartments.” 
She constructed a suite” from a single room by partitioning off the 
corridor end and the door from the window end by curtains of striped 
calico, thus making a ‘^drawing-room” and a bedroom. None of the 
lodgings which we inspected were cheap in either situation or price, but 
the above description, with individual exceptions and variations, repre- 
sents their general character with sufficient fairness. 

We were daunted. Going out to our meals was the resource left to 
us. We had counted upon this, in fact, as a valuable means of making 
observations. But how were we to subsist in case of bad weather, if 
there happened to be no hotel in the immediate neighborhood ? The 
hotels were unobjectionable. But just at this point in our researches 
we discovered that restaurants were not. We told our izvostchik to 
drive us to a first-class restaurant. At the door, our woman’s instinct 
sounded the alarm, and we inquired whether it was intended for ladies. 
The manager courteously assured us that it was ; and during our very 
good breakfast we were not apprised by so much as a glance, from 
waiters or guests, that we were doing anything out of the way. It 
remained for a woman to assure us, on our mentioning the subject in- 
tentionally, for the purpose of eliciting remark, that ladies never 
went to the first-class restaurants unaccompanied by gentlemen,” but 
that we, as ignorant foreigners, would be pardoned. If such was the 
case with the best restaurants, what would be the result of patronizing 
any other sort? Life in St. Petersburg, outside of hotels or private 


BED AND BOARD IN RUSSIA. 


681 


housekeeping, seemed to be a problem easy enough of solution for a 
man long domiciled there and possessed of numerous dinner invitations, 
but not for two strange women. We resolved to remain at the hotel 
until we should have bought a little experience to keep us out of 
scrapes. We began to suspect that there must be a storehouse of that 
commodity awaiting our purchase. 

Later we attacked this lodging-house puzzle with spirit, and solved 
it. We found well-furnished, well-situated, spacious lodgings. We 
got our breakfasts and dinners at the hotels, varying their monotony 
by incursions on the forbidden restaurants from time to time. Our 
reliance upon our sedate appearance and conduct and our foreign ex- 
traction was never misplaced. But the plain truth of the matter is 
that a woman sojourning alone in the Russian capitals (either Moscow 
or St. Petersburg) would be obliged to cook her own meals (with an 
oil stove, or something of that sort, personally or through her maid), 
put up at a first-class hotel, or keep house, if she were at all particular 
as to the variety and quality of her food. 

Out of all the apartments which we occupied at various times and 
in different places only one ever voluntarily furnished us with bed- 
linen, towels, and pillows. That landlady was English, and she had 
a double bed — and bedbugs. We never saw a bedbug anywhere else 
in Russia, and the only other double beds we came across were those 
of the Emperor and Empress in the Imperial palaces. Single folding 
iron beds are the rule in hotels and the like. We were, at last, obliged 
to buy and carry about our bed-linen. It came into play in various 
country hotels, which are run on the antique plan. Sheets and pillows 
are also indispensable on the steamers, to freshen up the hot, velvet- 
covered, pillowless divans into the coolness and comfort consistent with 
sleep. 

In our lodgings we accumulated a mass of experiences and warn- 
ings, so that we felt very wise at the end of it all. But I have not a 
doubt that if we were to start afresh, with all due precautions, we 
should discover new tricks to conquer beyond those illustrated in the 
selection of incidents which I shall relate. 

The first thing we learned to shun in choosing lodgings was the 
huge, cylindrical iron stove, which is used for economy. Sometimes it 
is covered with paper to match the walls. This device does in fact 
conceal the otherwise inevitable huge patches of scorched paint around 
the fire-doors, but the odors of toasting paste and paper, added to that 
of the burning iron, are intolerable. Another objection to this sort of 
stove is that it overheats a room terribly at first, and cools off so sud- 
denly afterwards that one is alternately roasted and frozen. The ordi- 
nary mode of heating is by birch wood, burned in large stoves of tiles, 
which reach from the floor to the ceiling. This stove heats to such 
perfection of temperature and atmosphere that one learns in Russia for 
the first time what it is to be really comfortable in winter and yet to 
escape the perennial American cold in the head or sore throat, super- 
induced by overheating on one side and by a cold draught on the other. 

This question of heat is obviously of the first importance during a 
Russian winter. In one set of apartments we discovered, too late, that 


682 


BED AND BOARD IN RUSSIA. 


the only means of heating our parlor consisted of a small grate, and that 
the landlady considered one scuttle of coke a proj5er allowance of fuel 
for twenty-four hours, because the house was on the sunny side of 
the street/^ In vain we argued that the hard-rimmed, pewter platter 
of a sun, which can be gazed on with impunity with the naked eye, is 
not capable of adding much heat, even when it is above the horizon 
for five hours, to say nothing of the remaining nineteen hours and of 
stormy days. Illness prevented our quitting that house at once, and 
we meekly sat wrapped in our fur cloaks, which were proof, as we 
knew, against cold 35° below zero Fahrenheit. The landlady went 
about wrapped up in a thick shawl, — to keep out the heat, I presume, 
as she was constantly telling us that the former occupants had forbidden 
the “ boots’^ to build even that coke fire more than once a week, lest 
they should suffocate with warmth. I suppose Russians would have 
known how to deal with her : retaining the price of fuel from the rent 
is the remedy, I was informed afterwards. I must state, in justice, 
that she was English, though her household and food were entirely 
Russian. 

It was here that I received lessons in finance and other departments 
from Akim (Hyacinth), the muzhik (boots). I prefer to think of him 
as Hyacinth when I recall his appearance while engaged in making 
that coke fire and in other duties. His garments consisted of a scarlet 
cotton shirt, belted and worn with the skirts outside of his black vel- 
veteen trousers, — the ordinary costume of boots.’^ The trousers were 
made from two breadths of the velveteen sewed up straight and falling 
to the ground, unhemmed, about his bare feet. When in full dress, 
these trousers were tucked into tall, wrinkled boots, and puffed over. 
Blue eyes, light brown hair worn in the deep, circular Russian bang,’’ 
a ruddy complexion, good features of the strong Russian type, — such 
was the personal appearance of Hyacinth-Akim. Every morning he 
brought in the samovar and made the fire, much against his will, in 
the middle of the night,” as he was pleased to designate eight o’clock. 
I gave him money for bread, cream, newspaper, and, occasionally, for 
eggs. There were two bakers’ shops in our block (one in our house, 
on the street level), half a dozen more in the immediate neighborhood ; 
there was a dairy-shop round the corner ; and newspaper men were 
sprinkled about abundantly. Yet my coffee had always boiled far too 
long on the samovar, which sometimes went out, and I had lost all 
patience, before he returned, in three-quarters of an hour or so. The 
rolls which he brought were invariably stale, the cream was mediocre, 
the eggs were always very small and generally bad. Russians like 
them that way : they are choice eggs,” was his reply to my remarks ; 
and it is a fact that some Russians, even among the cultivated gentry, 
prefer what Th^ophile Gautier found so often in Spain, — feathered 
eggs.” Akim declared that fresh rolls left the oven only at ten o’clock, 
“ when gentlefolks drink their tea.” His surliness was proof against 
my constant remonstrances. But on Easter Monday he astonished me 
with fresh and early rolls. That day Princess Blank chanced to say 
that her household always “drank tea” — the expression for the first 
meal of the day — at eight o’clock. 


BED AND BOARD IN RUSSIA. 


683 


‘‘And do you have stale rolls?” I asked. 

“Never. Why?” 

I stated the case. Then the princess and her husband, being versed 
in the guile of Russian servants, explained that my Hyacinth probably 
kept two kopeks out of every five which I gave him, and spent the 
extra time that had tried my patience so sorely in scouring the 
neighborhood for stale bread, which is sold more cheaply. At Easter 
time no bakers work, and Hyacinth had been obliged to feed us on 
fresh rolls for once, because all the stale bread was exhausted. Inquiry 
at the shops developed the fact that the first batch of rolls left the 
oven at half-past six o’clock in the morning. I also experimented at 
the dairy-shops with cream and eggs. I got large and perfectly fresh 
eggs for the price paid (ostensibly) by Akim for his shabby, antiquated 
specimens. I worried a newspaper vender, and found that I got a re- 
duction of a kopek : I suspected that Akim had received a reduction 
of two kopeks. The Russian papers are dear, even at their subscrip- 
tion prices, in proportion to their size, which is generally four pages, 
sometimes six. In proportion to the amount of news which they con- 
tain, they are extortionate, the one I patronized costing thirteen dollars 
a year. 

Hyacinth-Akim fell out with me the next morning, when I said 
that I wished rolls from the six-thirty batch, from a bakery which I 
specified, — fresh rolls, like what I had had the day before, not stale, 
such as he had been serving me. He took the hint at last. 

“Do you think I put your money in my pocket, siidaryuya?” he 
asked. 

“ You know best,” I replied. “ I don’t care what you do with it, 
provided you bring me fresh bread and eggs and good cream.” 

Thereupon Hyacinth “ struck,” and the landlady sent another 
muzhik, — who may have pilfered coppers also ; but I never knew or 
cared to know, in view of the quality of the food which he brought 
me. I must say that Hyacinth was one of the only two surly mem- 
bers of the peasant class whom I encountered. I never saw him 
smile but once. That was when he watched my third attempt to burn 
up an Easter cake which I had bought, in my ignorance, as of super- 
fine quality, and which even the fire refused to consume. 

We had another experience, still more amusing, at another set of 
lodgings, kept by a Frenchwoman. She had forgotten a good deal of 
French, and had not acquired much Russian, during her long residence 
in St. Petersburg. Her moustache was the most Frenchy thing about 
her. Our entertainment began very promptly in this case. On reach- 
ing St. Petersburg from Moscow at the end of the Russian December, 
we found this Frenchwoman’s well-situated, beautifully furnished, and 
desirable apartments vacant and advertised. The rooms were partly 
heated by wood-burning furnaces in the cellar (the house being new), 
and we could have fires in the drawing-room grate and in the bedroom 
stove whenever we liked. It is usual to have a grate in the drawing- 
room of apartments, and it is objectionable only when it is relied upon 
to supply all the heat, and when the half-lignite coal is used instead 
of birch wood. 


684 


BED AND BOARD IN RUSSIA. 


The place was so attractive that we were suspicious. Why, when 
lodgings are so desperately scarce in winter, — why were those rooms 
vacant? We asked if there had been illness there. 

Non,’’ said Madame, ‘‘ Bog zndet [God knows] qu’il n’y a pas eu 
un brin de baly^zn [sickness].” 

Has any one died here, then ?” 

Jamais, nikogda! j’ai imy^l deux on trois locataires qui ont 
demeur6 u menya pendant deux ou trois god [I have had two or three 
lodgers who have lived with me for two or three years].” 

How comes it that the rooms are vacant at this season ?” 

Eh bien, le monsieur qui zanemal yikh [occupied them] ^tait 
v sluzhbye [in the service] d’un gouvernemeut Stranger. Zliest nedyel 
tomu nazad [six weeks ago] on lui a donn4 bnezdpno [suddenly] une 
position a Vienne. Oui, il a obtenu un g-r-r-r-rand rang a Vienne, 
yay B6gu [God is my witness] !” 

We engaged the rooms, as there was nothing else to be had, sent 
our luggage there, and returned to the hotel to breakfast and to get our 
passports. The passport clerk, when we gave him our new address, in 
compliance with the law, remarked that some one had died in those 
lodgings, or in that house, very recently. We reflected that his re- 
marks might be a ruse to detain us in the hotel : liow could he know 
about that particular house? But the hint coincided too closely with 
our own misgivings to be disregarded. We went back, and, foolishly, 
questioned the Swiss. As Madame had had two adjoining apartments 
thrown into one, there were two Swiss, or hall-porters, one at each 
entrance to that big building. Instead of this proving to be an ad- 
vantage in the present case, both Swiss professed an ignorance more 
dense than our own. There has been no funeral, no illness, here, 
God is my witness. Ask the other Swiss : he may know,” each said. 

Mounting the stairs, beyond the Swiss’s line of vision, we pulled 

the bell at a door labelled “ Prince .” There, in reply to our 

questions, they told us that a man had died a few days before in our 
new lodgings, of something sudden, they believed. 

We attributed the whole list of contagious diseases to that man, as 
we drove in haste to the police station of our quarter. At the station 
we found everything so decorous and dignified that it seemed an im- 
pertinence to ask troubled questions. Before a very large image of 
the Virgin and the Christ-child, in a massive, gilded rococo frame, 
burned a shrine-lamp, — the lamp which, in theory, should be always 
burning, but which, in practice, is frequently extinguished. The Em- 
peror’s portrait gazed mildly down from another wall, and would 
certainly, it seemed, have looked surprised had the officers’ tall boots 
squeaked or had their bows been a shade less courtly. 

We explained the situation, and asked if they knew the facts in 
the case. 

Certainly,” was the reply. When the doctor comes in he will 
tell you all about it.” 

The doctor read us his record from the official books. An old 
gentleman (not a dapper young diplomat) had really died in our new 
sitting-room, of heart-disease. The doctor had been present at the 


BED AND BOARD IN RUSSIA. 


685 


inquest, described the furniture, and read out the price of tlie rooms, 
which convinced us not only that he knew about the death, but that 
we were not being overcharged. This was surprising, but refreshing 
to a degree which can be realized only by those who are unskilled at 
chaffering and who detest it, in a country where prix fixe’’ is a reality 
only on a few signs, and where the foreigner unacquainted with values 
usually pays dear for his ignorance. The doctor was much amused at 
our story, and declared that the Swiss had been bribed by Madame, 
and that the death had occurred only two — not six — weeks before. 

When we got back to the lodgings, I had Madame summoned, and 
said to her, — 

I give you one last chance to tell me the truth. What became 
of the last lodger?” 

She repeated her asseverations, in her usual vehement mosaic of 
French and Russian, calling in Liza, the maid, and another lodger, to 
support her, which they did with a perfect volley of “ God knows” 
and ‘‘ he is gone to Vienna.” I incidentally discovered that Liza had 
learned French from Madame, and that she was anxious to conceal the 
fact : this prevented my mentioning secrets in that tongue thereafter. 

I wickedly enjoyed their perjury, and, when they had quite finished, 
I pointed to a spot on the rug, and said, — 

'‘He died just here.” I must have hit the mark, for the three 
women looked absolutely terrified. 

" He is gone to — heaven,” I went on. " Madame, I am amazed 
that a Frenchwoman should consider Vienna and heaven as synony- 
mous.” 

Then they weakened and half admitted the fact; and I, not know- 
ing how witches might be regarded in that latitude, clinched my 
remarks by referring her to the police for any details which might 
have escaped her memory during the " fortnight” which had elapsed. 

Madame gave a final flare-up at my " not trusting her word of 
honor,” and at my having been so vulgar as to apply to the police, but 
ended by excusing herself : she " was afraid the rooms would remain 
iinlet if the truth were told ; people were so fidgety.” We afterwards 
discovered that the hotel passport clerk lived in the neighborhood and 
had seen the funeral ; and to this fact we were indebted for our amuse- 
ment. 

We remained, in spite of Madam e’s lies and fears, and were very 
comfortable, on the whole. She told us there was a club near by, 
whence our meals could be sent in. One dinner, which we suspected 
of coming from Madame’s own kitchen, but which had nothing French 
or even first-class Russian about it, settled that question. When we 
got her, occasionally, to cook simple dishes for us, she displayed a 
heaven-bestowed talent for spoiling them. 

The birch-gas fumes from the cellar furnace made us ill, if we 
opened the little brass register- boxes in the walls. This was because 
false economy prompted the yard-porter to close the flues before the 
wood had burned down to coals. But Madame was willing to roast 
us all day long with a roaring fire of birch logs in the grate. The 
secret of this was that she hired her apartments " with wood,” and 


686 


BED AND BOARD IN RUSSIA. 


could use as much as she pleased without extra cost to herself. This 
is a very important point to consider in hiring apartments, either for 
housekeeping or for lodging. In advertisements of the former, the 
advantageous fact with wood’’ is always stated as an inducement. 
We found it a very good question to put in hiring lodgings, ‘^Is wood 
included in your lease?” If the landlady has to buy her own fuel 
she will infallibly try to harden one’s constitution to cold, after the 
fashion of the English landlady whom I have mentioned. That sort 
of woman will say, when questioned about fires, ^^The stove will be 
heated when it is necessary, and to the proper degree.” She always 
expects to be the judge herself ; and, in her opinion, a microscopic fire 
once in three or four days, even in the coldest weather, is sufficient. 
We had four landladies of that pattern, — two in Moscow, Russian, and 
two in St. Petersburg, one English, the other a Pole. In the last case 
we were told that we could not have a fire because the young man in 
the next room was going to have one, and it would suffice for us also. 
In very many cases the great porcelain stoves are built through the 
wall, with the express object of heating two rooms. But the young 
man’s stove did not extend through to us; in fact, it was not even 
situated on that partition wall, our huge parlor and bedroom being 
dependent for their heat on a stove in their own party wall. It was 
especially necessary because one wall of the bedroom was permanently 
chilled by the hallway, which was open from top to bottom of the house 
and never had its street door closed except during a few hours at night. 

That was the trouble in our Moscow lodgings. They seemed par- 
ticularly desirable at first sight, because they were situated on a corner. 
But in one, where we had a whole stove to ourselves on account of the 
wall, they would not light it without a daily fight, because a whole fire 
for two persons seemed to them too extravagant. In the other, where 
we felt quite safe, because we had half of some one else’s stove in each 
room, they would light neither when those sets of rooms chanced to be 
vacant simultaneously, on the same principle. 

Occasionally these lodging-houses profess to furnish breakfast and 
dinner, if one wishes, in his own rooms. But the food is very bad in 
quality and stinted in quantity. We tried it in several places, but 
only once in each. At a house in Moscow (where we refrained from 
engaging rooms) we were shown the bill of fare. The chief among 
the scanty items chanced to be rydbtchik, a plump little game bird of 
about the size and build of a quail. It was set down at a price per 
portion” which was equal to that in the best hotels. 

How many portions are there in a ryabtchik ?” I asked. 

“Several,” was the not unexpected reply; and I knew that the 
bird would not be fresh, but would be of the cheap sort which has 
been frozen for months in the market and has half thawed out. They 
are likely to be poisonous in that state. A Moscow merchant was 
recently arrested for dealing in that sort of ryabtchik. He explained 
to the police that “ he was ripening the birds for his English customers, 
who preferred them when fragrant.” But the uncultured, hard-hearted 
police would not accept this version of the matter. They fined him 
and destroyed his “ high” game. 


BED AND BOARD IN RUSSIA. 


687 


I must confess that even our avidity for “ experiences’’ and “ local 
color” was conquered by the Moscow lodgings with which we experi- 
mented, and we fled back to the hotel. However, if one wishes to 
combine the more spacious and reasonable lodgings with the comforts 
of a hotel, and avoid the trouble and confinement of housekeeping, the 
way to manage is to use the Colonial” (or Delicatessen) shops as an 
auxiliary to the samovar for the noon breakfast, and dine out at the 
best places. This method has the advantage of uniting experiences, 
local color, and comfortable quarters. With the samovar one can make 
far better coffee, if one prefers that to tea with the morning roll, than 
can be had at most of the hotels. Eggs can be enclosed in a muslin 
bag and boiled by the steam of the samovdr, without touching the 
water. Coffee is dear and hard to find good, which is one explana- 
tion of so many Russians drinking unsubstantial tea in the morning. 
Economy is another reason. 

And the dinners? Well, the only really good cooking is to be 
found at the restaurants, where, as I have said, unprotected women are 
not expected to go. I refer especially to St. Petersburg. In Moscow, 
where pure Russian dishes and receipts prevail, most of the hotel food 
is not only good, but at times delicious. But in St. Petersburg it is a 
mixture of German and a little Russian, neither first-class. He who 
says German in cookery says grease, boiled meat, raw sausages, and a 
dessert of half-sweetened pie-dough deluged with cherry-juice, which 
figures on the bill of fare as a pudding. Hotel vegetables amount to 
very little, especially in winter, and the German compote, which goes 
with the roast, has been promoted to the dignity of a dessert, where it 
appears as a “ macedoine” composed of three preserved cherries and 
one plum, eked out with sugar and water. There is an admirable 
strain of thrift, no doubt, in this promotion of the worthy compote; 
but it has no other merit. 

The curse of all hotel cooking in St. Petersburg is boiled beef. 
There are other dishes, of course. But the stomach weakens at this 
point. In St. Petersburg it is quite possible to get boiled beef by 
ordering mutton-chops, and the head-waiter will provide a seasoning 
of argument. At one favorite table-cThdte breakfast, roast sucking pig, 
stuffed with black buckwheat groats, is served every other day, and 
one must go early if he be attached to this hearty delicacy, so great is 
the demand for it on the part of the Russians, who are attracted thither 
by it. But boiled beef is the Russian, as it is the German and Aus- 
trian, Proteus. It appears on the bill of fare, under different names, 
at least three times every day in the year, after having already done 
yeoman service in the soup, with one onion fried from early morn to 
dewy eve to make a strong but thrifty flavoring. It scores at least 
eleven hundred economical and intellectual triumphs for the Germans 
every year, and the stomach, which cannot, like the eyes, be defrauded 
by fancy titles, at last flees, howling, from the struggle with slow, 
nauseating starvation. But in Russia the enemy is less fertile in 
stratagem. It masquerades most frequently under the name of ^‘cut- 
lets,” or with a prefix of a distinguished name, preferably that 

of a slashing military man, as is fitting. Pozhdrsky cutlets (Minin, 


688 


BED AND BOARD IN RUSSIA. 


the butcher-comrade of Prince Pozhdrsky, is most unjustly forgotten), 
Skobeleff cutlets, Dolgoruky cutlets, and the whole race of cutlets and 
hilkij may safely be avoided. But, alas ! the anxious query as to any 
unfamiliar dish, Is it chopped generally brings the answer ‘‘ Yes.’’ 
Then one knows that it will turn out a hard, dry ball of chopped 
boiled beef, variously seasoned, and fried in grease, sunflower-seed oil 
being often used in Lent and other fasts, for the soul’s sake, when 
sinners will persist in eating meat. 

There is no doubt that we could have multiplied our studies of 
Russian servants and customs indefinitely, had we cared to trammel 
our liberty of action by undertaking to keep house. But furnished 
apartments with kitchens are not often available, or otherwise than 
by the year, and it would have been foolish to buy a complete outfit 
of furniture for a short time. We found that Russian housekeepers 
got on admirably with their servants, but that foreigners complained 
almost as bitterly as we complain in America. Nevertheless, it seemed 
to us that, in spite of all their peccadilloes, Russian servants were 
angels of light compared to the majority of those at home. They 
work untiringly, and are amiable about it. They may be slow, though 
they did not strike us in that way, but they certainly atone for that by 
their willingness to abjure “days out.” They do not expect to be fed 
on the fat of the land. They eat their cabbage soup, black bread, and 
buckwheat groats with contentment. They are clean, quiet, respectful. 
They never answer back, — always excepting my Hyacinth. 

The wages for a good plain family cook are eight or nine rubles 
(four dollars to four dollars and fifty cents) a month, and she is ex- 
pected to furnish her own tea and sugar, or not, according to contract. 
Some of the more pampered servants are beginning to stipulate for a 
cup of coffee every morning, but they would never dream of buying it 
for themselves if refused. A good lackey costs from twelve dollars to 
fifteen dollars a month, and the price of the other servants is in pro- 
portion. Of course in fashionable establishments much higher wages 
are paid to men-cooks and all classes of servants. Nowhere are there 
so many servants kept in proportion to the population as in Russia ; 
nowhere is one so well waited on, so spoiled with good treatment from 
the servants, as there. 

Whatever our unmade experiences in housekeeping might have 
been, they would probably have been in line with what we observed 
in other ways, as we did a good deal of housekeeping-shopping, first 
and last. 

Before we drifted into the mysteries of “ self-help,” as illustrated 
by furnished lodgings, we had a long experience of hotels. We also 
had it, at intervals, later. In fact, the two sorts of experience were 
sandwiched in pretty impartially. Therefore I feel very well qualified 
to pronounce upon the degree of knowledge of things truly Russian 
which can be acquired in a hotel towards the making of an authori- 
tative book on the country, such as several persons have professed to 
give us. It is not extensive, to put it mildly. 

The ordinary traveller has no choice. He goes, perforce, to the 
hotels, where he is likely to get along with the stock of languages (or 


FROM THE VALLEY O’ THE SHADDER. 


689 


language) at his command, and where he will be cared for in the way 
to which he is accustomed, and that will prevent his giving vent to a 
libel before he has been in the country twenty-four hours, and becoming 
embittered for good. Indeed, they are all regulated on the European 
plan, as nearly as possible, with a special view to the requirements of 
the average traveller. The latter’s mistake lies in imagining that after 
a stay of three or four days in them (or of two or three weeks) he is 
competent to describe the food, manners, and customs of all the Rus- 
sians at all seasons of the year. In reality, he discovers very little 
about them, even during the season of the year at which his visit is 
made. He is apt to see spurious marvels, like the American who said 
to me that it was “ very strange not to find any ice-cream in a land so 
near the North Pole, where one of the ingredients, at least, was pre- 
sumably to be had in sufficient abundance.” The explanation was 
simple : he knew no language but American, though he was college- 
bred ; the ice-cream on the hotel bill of fare had probably escaped his 
notice during his protracted stay of four days, and his eyes, tongue, 
and guide had proved useless elsewhere. He was prepared, neverthe- 
less, to incorporate his wonder at the phenomenon in his “ Notes of 
Russian Travel.” He was equally well informed on other matters, 
and assured me that, though St. Petersburg was too cosmopolitan” 
for his purpose (a serious article on ‘^The Pulse of Russia at the 
Present Time”), he intended to make his studies of the pure, unadul- 
terated Russians in Nizhni-Novgorod, Minsk, and Warsaw. Probably 
he had a tourist ticket. It may be that his observations in Minsk and 
Warsaw satisfied him ; but, as it is notorious that the inhabitants of 
those towns are almost exclusively Jews and Poles, with little that is 
Russian beyond the official language and the government, and as the 
mixture of races at the Nizhni fair is even greater than in St. Peters- 
burg, the Russians to whom I repeated this unconscious jest compli- 
mented me, amid tears of laughter, on the brilliancy of my inventive 
power in the line of utter absurdities. When I assured them that I 
was incapable of such coruscations of wit, they said, with cheerful 
resignation, Oh, well, we are used to being misrepresented.” 

Isabel F. Hapgood. 


FROM THE VALLEY O’ THE SHADDER, 

rilHE window over the veranda was opened with a sudden dash, and 
JL the head and shoulders of Miss Jane Bates were thrust through 
the aperture. 

‘‘ Nancy !” she called, in a tone of suppressed frenzy, — oh, Nancy ! 
canH you manage some way to keep sister Becky down-stairs for a few 
minutes? Poor little Dick Swiveller’s havin’ another fit.” 

Nancy, on her knees scrubbing the veranda steps, dropped her 
brush precipitately and sprang up. 

“ Land sake ! it’s too late, ma’am ; she’s done started up-stairs this 
minute.” 

VoL. LVII.— 44 


690 


FROM THE VALLEY O’ THE SHADDER. 


‘‘Oh, Nancy, what ever shall I do?’^ moaned Miss Jane, implor- 
ingly. 

“ Chuck hm in the closet, quick,’’ suggested Nancy. 

“ Oh, but he’s havin’ such an awful fit, frothin’ at the mouth an’ 
clawin’ straws out o’ the mattin’ ! Oh, I dassn’t touch ’irn !” 

“ Throw a quilt over ’im an’ roll ’im up, then he can’t scratch you,” 
urged Nancy. 

But there was no available quilt at hand, and Miss Jane glanced dis- 
tractedly from the struggling little creature on the floor to the snowy 
spread on her bed. The sound of a stately step at the head of the 
stairs roused her to action. She dragged the immaculate spread to the 
floor, rolled the unfortunate little animal in it, and was just closing 
the closet door on both with frantic haste, when the door of her room 
opened, and Miss Rebecca Bates looked in, with eyes that saw every- 
thing, even the wee corner of white bedspread visible beneath the closet 
door. 

“What’s the matter, Jane?” she demanded. 

“ M-matter ?” stammered Miss Jane. 

“ Yes, matter. What is the matter with you ?” 

“ N-nothing, sister Becky.” 

“You look flurried.” 

“ I-I’ve been talkin’ to Nancy, through the winder.” 

“ Oh ! You better be careful, Jane. At your time o’ life it ain’t 
safe to indulge in such excitin’ pastimes ; it might bring on heart-failin’, 
er nervous prostration.” 

Poor Miss Jane knew that ironical tone too well to venture a reply. 
She tremblingly turned to the window and began arranging the dis- 
turbed curtains. 

“ What’s become o’ your bedspread, Jane ?” 

“ I t-took it off; it needs washin’,” stammered Miss Jane, and 
immediately whispered to her conscience, “ It does need washin’ — by 
this timeJ^ 

“ Needs washin’, eh ?” went on the measured, merciless voice of 
Miss Rebecca. “ Since when ’ve you took to keepin’ your wash in 
your closet ?” 

“ Clo-closet !” 

“ Take care, Jane ! if you don’t stop tryin’ to say big words I’m 
afeard you’ll choke. You’ve really got to be more careful. At your 
time o’ life ” 

A faint little wailing “ meow” came just then from the depths of 
the closet, reaching the ears of both spinsters simultaneously, with dis- 
tinctly different results. Miss Jane grew red, then pale, and the hands 
that draped and re-draped the curtains trembled visibly. Miss Re- 
becca simply paused in her speech and glared at her sister for the space 
of two seconds, then she strode forward and laid her large, firm hand 
on the closet door. The next instant a little white kitten staggered 
weakly out into daylight, trailing a corner of the spread after him and 
aiming straight for Miss Jane. She caught him up in her arms and 
burst into tears. 

“ Poor kitty ! Poor little Dick Swiveller !” she sobbed. 


FROM THE VALLEY O’ THE SH ADDER. 


691 


Miss E-ebecca took on the air of an outraged sovereign. 

Has that cat been havin’ a jit she sternly questioned. 

A nod of the head and a fresh burst of tears was Miss Jane’s 
sole reply. 

Is it the^rs^ fit he’s had ?” 

N-no.” 

Jane Bates 

There was genuine consternation, mingled with stern reproval, in 
Miss Rebecca’s voice and attitude. Miss Jane cowered and shrank, 
but clung to the kitten. 

Jane,” said Miss Rebecca, drawing her head up to its highest 
altitude, you are the first Bates who, to my knowledge, ever broke a 
promise, er stooped to sneakin’ trickery to hide a fault. What’ve you 
got to say fer yourself?” 

‘‘Nothin’, sister Becky, only — only ” Miss Jane’s thin little 

voice broke and fell to a squeaking whisper — “ only he’s so little an’ 
helpless, an’ so unfortunate, I c-couldn’t help it.” 

Miss Rebecca’s lips curled scornfully. 

“ Well, you’ll help it now. No Bates is goin’ to break her word 
for the sake of a cat, if I know it. You’ll kill that cat now with 
your own hands, accordin’ to your promise.” 

“ Oh, sister Becky, I can’t ! I can’t !” wailed poor Miss Jane. 

“ You can, and you shall. You rec’lect as well as I do the solemn 
bargain we made the day you brought the critter home. I told you 
we didn’t want it, — that it would only git fits an’ have to be killed, 
like all the cats you’ve ever had ; an’ I told you that, as we’d turned 
off the hired man, there’d be nobody to kill it ; an’ you up an’ promised 
as brave as brass that you’d kill it yourself, the jirst time it had a fit. 
You’ve broke your word, an’ now it’s my business to see that you 
mend it.” 

“ But, sister Becky, he’s so little, so young ; he’ll outgrow the fits 
if we give ’im a chance. Maybe he’ll never have another, sister 
Becky. Let’s wait a few days, anyhow, an’ see,” pleaded tender-hearted 
Miss Jane. 

“ That’s old ; I’ve heard it before,” sneered Miss Rebecca, un- 
touched. “ I was a fool to give way an’ let you keep the varmint 
when you brought ’im home, because the fact is it’s bad luck for us to 
have cats, bad luck for us an’ the cats too, as I’ve told you often before. 
It’s settled, you understand, that you’ve got to kill that cat, an’ right 
away, too. Now, how’ll you do it? Take your choice o’ shootin’, 
bangin’, poisonin’, er drownin’.” 

Miss Jane shuddered and pressed the kitten to her breast. 

“ Mayn’t I give ’m away, sister Becky ?” 

“ No,” thundered Miss Rebecca. “ You don’t poke off no fitty 
cat on nobody. I’m ashamed of you, Jane Bates ! Don’t you know 
that breakin’ your solemn word is — is perjury in the sight o’ the 
Almighty?” 

Miss Jane straightened up and her lips tightened. She went slowly 
from the room and down the stairs, the kitten still in her arms. Miss 
Rebecca followed her closely. 


692 


FROM THE VALLEY O’ THE SHADDER. 


“ Nancy,” said Miss Jane, almost quietly, will you bring me the 
chloroform you had left after your toothache ?” 

^^Yes’m.” 

‘^An’, Nancy, bring one o’ sister Becky’s rubber boots from the 
closet under the stairs.” 

‘‘Yes’m.” 

^^What on earth do you want o’ one o’ my boots?” demanded 
Miss Rebecca. 

I can’t chloroform the kitten without a boot, sister Becky ; an’ 
since you’ve sent the hired man away there’s no boots on the place but 
yours.” 

Jane Bates, are you cracked ? Chloroform a cat with a gum 
boot !” 

In a gum boot, sister Becky,” gently corrected Miss Jane. I’ve 
read somewheres that that’s the way to do it. Thanks, Nancy. Now 
please hold the boot while I slip ’im in.” 

Down into the dark depths of the gum boot plunged little Dick 
Swiveller, head first. Then Miss Jane suddenly remembered that she 
ought to have put the sponge in first, saturated with chloroform. 

He’s such a tight fit, I can’t ever get it in past ’im,” she said. 

I’ll have to shake ’im out.” 

But Dick Swiveller refused to be shaken out. He was not only a 
^Hight fit,” but he had set his little claws into the flannel lining of the 
boot, and he hung on desperately. Miss Jane shook and twisted and 
squeezed the boot, but all in vain. 

“ Gimme holt o’ his tail,” said Miss Rebecca, grimly. But Miss 
Jane stood guard over the defenceless little caudal appendage. 

You shan’t hurt ’im, sister Becky,” she said. 

Well, I’d like to know what you’re goin’ to do, Jane Bates?” 

I’m sure I don’t know, sister Becky,” admitted Miss Jane, 
helplessly. 

You might sew up the top o’ the boot an’ smother the little 
beast.” 

Oh, sister Becky, please don’t say such awful things ! You canH 
mean it !” 

Cut a hole in the toe o’ the boot an’ poke the sponge in,” 
suggested Nancy, who, by the way, was a young person fertile in 
expedients. 

“Oh, Nancy, the very thing!” said Miss Jane, wdth a sigh of 
relief. 

“ Hold your tongue, Nancy, till you’re spoke to,” snapped Miss 
Rebecca. “I was just goin’ to say, Jane, that as you’ve got the 
critter in there an’ can’t git ’im out, an’ as I don’t care to wear a boot 
with a cat in it, the boot’s ruined anyhow, an’ you may as well cut a 
hole to put the sponge in. Anybody could think o’ that, I reckon,” 
with a withering glance at Nancy, — “ if they want to be fool enough 
to ruin a three-dollar pair o’ boots fer a cat. Fer my part, I don’t 
see what we’re cornin’ to 1” 

Miss Jane, penknife in hand, bent down and carefully made an 
incision across the toe of the boot. Miss Rebecca gasped at sight of 


FROM THE VALLEY O’ THE SHADDER. 


693 


such ruthless waste of good material, but held her peace and watched 
the insertion of the chloroformed sponge with intentness. 

‘‘ Hold the boot-leg shut, Nancy,” she commanded : “ he’s tryin’ 
to back out.” 

Nancy held the boot-leg, and poor little Dick Swivel ler’s efforts to 
escape the deadly fumes were vain. Miss Jane, on her knees beside 
him, grew very pale and trembled violently. 

It’s like — murder !” she whispered. I don’t see why it ainH 
murder !” 

Don’t be a fool, Jane,” was her sister’s withering rejoinder. Some 
moments of silence ensued, during which the unfortunate kitten gradu- 
ally succumbed to the powerful drug, and all sign of life and motion 
ceased within the boot. 

“ There, now, he’s dead as a door-nail,” announced Miss Rebecca, 
conclusively. Chuck ’im in the crick, Jane, boot an’ all ; I’ll never 
wear it again.” 

Nancy,” quavered Miss Jane, would you — just as lief ” 

“ No,” interposed Miss Rebecca, with a stern shake of her iron- 
gray head. No, you’ll do it yourself, Jane.” 

And Jane did it. She took up the dreadful boot with gingerly 
touch and went slowly out, through the door-yard and across the county 
road, to where the creek rippled and glinted in the red light of the 
low afternoon sun. She gazed into the swift water and shivered. She 
shut her eyes, held her breath, and threw the boot as far as she could. 

Miss Jane had never cultivated the art of throwing ; it was against 
Miss Rebecca’s principles for a female Bates to cultivate any art that 
was not strictly feminine and lady-like ; hence Miss Jane had a most 
imperfect knowledge of the amount of force required to project an 
object a given distance, and it was certainly not through any design 
of hers that the boot and its ghastly burden alighted, with a soft thud, 
in the tall rushes on the opposite shore of the stream. The “ thud” 
and the fact were alike lost upon Miss Jane, for as the boot left her hand 
she turned and fled precipitately to the house, fully persuaded that she 
had consigned the lifeless remains of her pet to the chill sepulture of 
the crick.” 

As she ran, her thin lips quivered and tears rolled down her face. 
When she was safe inside her own room the conviction that possessed 
her burst again into words : 

If it ain’t murder, I’d like to know why it ain’t.” 

She sat down by her window, and the hands that had been wont to 
caress little Dick Swiveller now lay empty and idle in her lap. She 
saw the sun go down behind a bank of purple clouds; saw the clouds 
gradually rise and spread over the firmament, and a stormy night close 
in. Still she sat on, gazing out into the fast-gathering blackness and 
finding it a fitting background for visions of her meagre, miserable life, 
past, present, and prospective. 

I s’pose I can’t never have another kitten,” she said to herself, 
brokenly. Becky won’t let me. Oh, it seems as if I don’t want to 
live if 1 can’t have nothin’ to — to — loveJ^ 

It had been dark nearly an hour before she finally aroused to the 


694 


FROM THE VALLEY O’ THE SHADDER. 


consciousness that the rain was beating in upon her and soaking the 
sleeves of her print gown. She closed the sash and drew the curtains, 
and, groping for matches, lighted the lamp. Then she began taking 
the hair-pins out of the hard little knot of hair at the back of her 
head. The thought crossed her mind that she had never had enough 
of anything that tends to make life beautiful and desirable, not even 
hair. 

But if I had ever so much I reckon Becky wouldn’t let me do 
nothin’ with it,” she muttered, with a pathetic little sigh of resigna- 
tion. 

But, though her hair was not abundant, it was soft and wavy, and 
as she brushed it she recollected how little Dick Swiveller had 
delighted to play with it whenever he had found it straying unconfined 
over her pillow. 

Dear little thing, he never knowed there wasn’t enough of it,” 
she thought. Again her eyes overflowed, and she fell on her knees by 
the bed and sobbed. 

But suddenly she flung up her head and choked the sobs back to 
listen. Was she dreaming, or was she haunted? A faint little 
“ meow” that had a startlingly familiar sound came to her from some- 
where out in the stormy night. A curious chilly sensation ran over 
her. A murderer, however irresponsible, doesn’t like to hear the voice 
of his victim crying in the night ; and Miss Jane regarded herself as a 
murderer. 

But presently she so far overcame her trepidation as to open the 
window and put her head out to listen. For a minute or two all was 
darkness, and there was no sound save that of the rain and wind. 
Then gradually her eyes made out a small white object on the veranda 

steps. Nancy may ’ve left a rag ” she began, but paused as she 

became conscious that the white object was moving. 

M-e-o-w !” 

Miss Jane’s heart leaped into her throat. 

“ God bless my soul !” she gasped, and, seizing a shawl, she crept 
stealthily out into the passage and past Miss Rebecca’s door, then on 
down the stairs and through the deserted living-room to the door that 
opened upon the veranda. As softly as possible she undid the fasten- 
ings and opened the door a few inches, and in a moment the small 
white object had crept through and was rubbing its cold, wet little 
sides against her feet. 

M-e-o-w !” 

^^God bless my soul! It’s little Dick! Alive! Alive T she 
almost shrieked, her first impulse being to proclaim the miracle from 
the house-tops. But a second thought suggested Miss Rebecca and the 
advisability of keeping the wonderful resurrection a secret from her. 
Of course she must tell Nancy. Such a secret was too great for one 
slender breast to hold. But in the mean time the little wailing mouth 
must be stopped, or sister Becky would surely hear. A fire ! warm 
milk ! that was what was needed ; and, smothering the wet little 
creature in her shawl, she groped her way to the kitchen. 

The coals smouldering in the wide fireplace were easily kindled 


FROM THE VALLEY O’ THE SH ADDER. 


695 


ioto a blaze, and soon little Dick Swiveller was drying himself on the 
warm hearth and lapping milk with a relish that proclaimed him any- 
thing but a spook kitten. 

A great load had rolled off Miss Jane’s heart. She might be a 
murderer still, in act, but not in result. Her poor little victim still 
lived, chloroform, gum boot, and “ crick” to the contrary notwithstand- 
ing. Oh, how she loved tlie little creature for coming back to her ! 
how she fondled him and shed joyous tears over him, while she cast 
about in her mind, nervously, for some way to insure his safety hence- 
forth for evermore ! So engrossed was she with him and her thoughts 
that she did not hear the soft opening of the door, nor the cat-like tread 
of Miss Rebecca, until that personage was standing over her and say- 
ing, coolly, — 

“ Huh ! come to, has he ? I reckon you hadn’t sense enough to 
tie a stone to the boot ! Give ’im to me.” 

Miss Jane clutched the kitten and sprang up. 

“ You can’t have ’im, sister Becky !” she said, and there was a look 
in her eyes that Miss Rebecca had never seen there before. Every bit 
of the instinct of motherhood that heaven had implanted in poor Miss 
Jane’s soul sprang now into sudden life, and the look in her eyes 
meant desperation. But Miss Rebecca was incapable of interpreting 
the look. Dick Swiveller himself had not less of the maternal instinct 
than she. So she only repeated more loudly the command, — 

^^Give ’im to me, Jane.” 

You can’t have ’im, sister Becky.” 

Jane Bates 

Miss Jane was very pale, and Miss Rebecca could see that she was 
trembling violently ; but her eyes did not waver and fall as was their 
wont before the terrible orbs of her sister. 

Sister Becky,” she said, lifting her hand impressively, don’t you 
try to fly in the face of a miracle like this. Hain’t you ever read in 
your Bible that all bein’s are created free an’ equal, an’ have a right to 
life, liberty, an’ the pursuit o’ happiness? Hain’t you ever read them 
words in your Bible, sister Becky ?” 

Don’t know but I have,” admitted Miss Rebecca, for the words 
certainly had a familiar ring about them. But that don’t refer to 
cats, Jane.” 

“ Yes, it does, sister Becky ; an’ ‘ Thou shalt not kill’ refers to cats 
too, just as much as to people; an’ if it don’t, I’d just like to know 
why it don’t !” 

‘‘ Stuff an’ nonsense !” cried Miss Rebecca, contemptuously. I’ve 
had enough o’ this foolery, Jane Bates. Gimme that cat.” 

A flash shot from Miss Jane’s pale-blue eyes. She took a step for- 
ward. 

“ Take care, sister Becky,” she said ; take care ! If you touch 
’im. I’ll— I’ll run offT 

For an instant Miss Rebecca was staggered by the unheard-of 
audacity of the threat. Then she laughed, as disagreeably as only 
Miss Rebecca Bates could laugh. 

Run off !” she echoed, scofiingly. You run off, at your time o’ 


696 


FROM THE VALLEY O’ THE SHADDER. 


life ! You look like it ! I reckon you^d run back a deal faster ^n you 
went. Now 

Miss Rebecca broke off to make a grab at the kitten, but Miss Jane 
eluded her and darted to the door. 

It’s no use, sister Becky,” she said, turning her head for an 
instant; ‘^he’s been murdered once an’ drownded, an’ he shan’t be 
ag’in. He’s come back to me from the Valley o’ the Shadder, an’ I’m 
goin’ to Stan’ by ’im.” 

Before Miss Rebecca could reach the door it had closed forever on 
Miss Jane Bates and little Dick Swiveller. Miss Rebecca locked it, 
and went back to her bed chuckling. But she lay awake, listening all 
through the stormy night. 

Meantime, poor, frightened, desperate Miss Jane went plashing 
along through the storm and darkness, keeping to the middle of the 
muddy county road to avoid losing her way. 

I’ll take ’im to the parsonage,” she said to herself. I’ve always 
been sorry Becky had that fallin’-out with the minister’s wife, but I 
declare it seems ’most providential now ; Becky won’t durst to go there 
after ’im.” 

But the parsonage was two miles away ; the rain was coming down 
in torrents, and the wind blowing hard in Miss Jane’s face : so that 
before she had covered half the distance she was soaked, chilled, and 
almost exhausted. 

I reckon I — can’t — make it,” she gasped, at last, and sank down 
on the wet bank at the roadside. “ Becky said I’d come back ; but I 
won’t — not if I die — right here.” 

She buried her cold face in the kitten’s warm fur, and the little 
creature purred responsively. Perhaps it was the kitten’s purring, or 
the rain beating on her uncovered head, or both, that kept her from 
hearing the sound of approaching wheels until suddenly a one-horse 
vehicle, with a single occupant, was almost upon her. She staggered 
to her feet and tried to climb up the bank, but slipped and fell back 
into the road, almost beneath the feet of the startled horse. In a 
moment the man had sprung from the buggy and was lifting her up. 

“Hope you’re not hurt, ma’am?” he said, sympathetically, in a 
voice that Miss Jane knew, — a voice that she had once known better 
than she knew her own, but which of late years had not often sounded 
in her ears. 

“Oh, Eben, is it youP^ she said, with a little sob of gladness. 

“ Why, Jennie Bates, is it you he echoed. “ What is up ? Why 
in the world ” 

“ Oh, Eben,” she interrupted, “ won’t you let me ride with you as 
far as the parsonage ? I’ll explain as we go along.” 

Miss Jane blushed a little, under cover of the darkness, as she felt 
herself lifted in a pair of strong arms and snugly tucked into the 
buggy. Then, as they moved slowly on, she introduced little Dick 
Swiveller, and told, as coherently as she could, the tragic tale of his 
death and resurrection and her midnight flight. 

“ I reckon you think I’m foolish, Eben,” she said, in conclusion, 
“to take on so over a kitten; but I can’t help it. This ain’t no 


SORRO W. 697 

common case, ner no common kitten. It’s just as if the poor little 

thing ’d come back to me from the Valley o’ the Shadder, an’ 

Oh, Eben, he’s all I’ve got in the world !” 

Eben Richards cleared his throat once or twice as if about to speak, 
but he did not do so, and finally Miss Jane said, timidly, — 

“ As you don’t say what you think about it, Eben, I reckon you 
think I’ve done wrong.” 

‘‘ Jennie, if you’ll let me. I’ll tell you exactly what I think about 
it,” he answered. I’m just thinkin’ what a dear, lovin’ little woman 
you are, an’ how I’d almost be willin’ to swap places with that kitten, 
fer the sake o’ k no win’ that you cared fer me a little. I hain’t changed 
a bit, Jennie, since that night, twelve years ago, when your sister Becky 
come between us an’ sent me to the right-about. I hain’t cared fer no 
other woman, though goodness knows I hain’t had any hopes about 
you, knowin’ how you’ve always let your sister rule you with a rod of 
iron. But now, Jennie girl, you’ve made a break fer liberty at last, 
an’ Why, here we are at the parsonage !” 

As he lifted her from the buggy his arms closed about her as 
though they meant to stay. 

‘‘ Jennie, you’ve been a many a year gittin’ ready to come to the 
parsonage with me ; you ain’t goin’ to go back on me now, are you, 
dear ?” 

“ Oh, Eben, don’t, please don’t,” pleaded Miss Jane, tremulously. 

Sister Becky’d say it was dreadful, at my time o’ life, an’ ” 

Sister Becky be — smothered !” quoth Eben. Your time o’ life, 
indeed ! How about my time o’ life, Jennie?” 

Oh, but it’s different with men, you know, Eben. Why, I’m 
thirty-seven, Eben.” 

“ What of it? You’re twelve years younger ’n that to me, dear; 
you’re the same little blue-eyed girl I made love to so long ago. Kiss 
me, Jennie girl.” 

It is probable that in that supreme moment the conviction was 
borne in upon Miss Jane that she was born to be ruled by somebody, 
for she meekly complied with Eben’s command. And little Dick 
Swiveller, finding himself in rather cramped quarters, lifted up his 
small voice in protest. He said, — 

M-e-o-w !” 

Carrie Blake Morgan. 


SORROW. 

D eath takes her hand and leads her through the waste 
Of her own soul, wherein she hears the voice 
Of lost love’s tears, and, famishing, can but taste 
The Dead-Sea fruit of life’s remembered joys. 

Madison Cawein, 


698 OFFICIAL RESIDENCES FOR AMERICAN DIPLOMATS. 


OFFICIAL RESIDENCES FOR AMERICAN DIPLOMATS. 

I N his annual message to Congress last December, President Cleve- 
land said, — 

I am thoroughly convinced that, in addition to their salaries, our 
ambassadors and ministers at foreign courts should be provided by the 
government with official residences. The salaries of these officers are 
comparatively small, and in most cases insufficient to pay, with other 
necessary expenses, the cost of maintaining household establishments 
in keeping with their important and delicate functions. The useful- 
ness of a nation’s diplomatic representative undeniably depends much 
upon the appropriateness of his surroundings, and a country like ours, 
while avoiding unnecessary glitter and show, should be certain that it 
does not suffer in its relations with foreign nations through parsimony 
and shabbiness in its diplomatic outfit. These considerations, and the 
other advantages of having fixed and somewhat permanent locations 
for our embassies, would abundantly justify the moderate expenditure 
necessary to carry out this suggestion.” 

The President’s views on this subject are shared by all those who 
have examined it with any care and impartiality. Let me give, in 
proof of this statement, the opinions of a half-dozen members, now in 
Europe, of the American diplomatic service. 

Hon. James S. Ewing, United States Minister to Belgium, writes, — 
I think there can be no question in the mind of any well-informed 
person as to the desirability of carrying out the recommendation made 
by the President. It would give dignity and stability to the Amer- 
ican embassies and legations, and place them on an equality with those 
of other nations. It would enable our ambassadors and ministers to 
live in much better style and taste, and free them from constant annoy- 
ances and humiliations. I think that the present salaries paid by the 
United States to its diplomatic agents, though much less than those of 
any other of the great powers, would still be sufficient, if these agents 
could be relieved from having to meet high rents and the expenses of 
keeping up the houses and furnishing them.” 

Hon. W. E. Quinby, American Minister to the ^fletherlands, gives 
this opinion : 

“ I am decidedly in favor of official residences. A permanent 
residence gives to the country possessing it a more important status in 
the capital. It is essential to the representative in that he has not to 
devote his energies, on his arrival in a foreign land, to a long, and 
sometimes vain, search for a suitable domicile, and this at a moment 
when he most needs all available time for familiarizing himself with 
the duties of his post. Moreover, such residences must ultimately be 
a saving to the country.” 

Hon. George W. Caruth, our representative at Lisbon, says, — 

“ The President’s statement of the case accords with the experience 
of every minister abroad with whom I have talked on the subject.” 


OFFICIAL RESIDENCES FOR AMERICAN DIPLOMATS. 699 


The United States Minister to Greece, the Hon. Eben Alexander, 
writes as follows from Athens : 

It is desirable to have American legations equal everywhere to 
those of other countries, if we are to have legations at all.” 

A distinguished American diplomat at another European capital 
says, — 

‘‘ As the representatives of the great nations receive, as a rule, more 
than double the sums paid to our agents, and as, in addition thereto, 
they are given splendid houses, thoroughly equipped and furnished, it 
is impossible, under such circumstances, for an American diplomatist 
to appear socially on equal terms with them ; and they do not fail to 
bring that fact home to us in many offensive ways. Unless our gov- 
ernment can afford to support its ambassadors and ministers in the 
condition to be expected from a great nation, it would be far more 
dignified to recall them all and leave only charges d’affaires in their 
stead.” * 

Many other good reasons, besides those already mentioned by the 
President and the ministers, in favor of the proposed innovation, might 
be given. 

Thus, it is within bounds to say, strange as it may sound at first, 
that the official resident system is far more democratic than the one 
now practised, for it would place poor diplomatists and rich ones on 
the same level so far as the chief external features of their official 
life are concerned. Every European capital offers, or has offered, 
examples of a short-pursed American ambassador or minister sand- 
wich^ in between two long-pursed ones — his immediate predecessor 
and his immediate successor — in a way that is very humiliating to 
him. Nor can official and diplomatic circles refrain from indulging 
in a disdainful smile at a nation whose representative shines in a 
grand Mtel during one administration, to be extinguished in an 
entresol during the next. 

Again, in some of the capitals cabinet ministers have official resi- 
dences, often, as in Paris, organized on a really palatial scale, so that 
our diplomatic agents are thus in some instances placed on a greatly 
inferior footing to the very officials with whom they have to transact 
business. When it is remembered how much can sometimes be accom- 
plished by' social attention, we should not deprive our representatives, 
as we so often do, of this delicate but effective instrument. 

But perhaps, after all, the strongest argument in favor of President 
Cleveland’s demand is the general one that the United States, having 
long since attained the rank of a first-class power, can no longer appear 
with decency, in this matter of diplomatic outfit, like a second- or 


* Mr. W. J. Stillman, the London Times correspondent at Rome, is the 
only American with whom I have spoken on the subject, and I have spoken 
with many, who seems to be adverse to President Cleveland’s recommendation. 
“ Until we have a diplomatic service with some fixity about it,” he says, “ I do 
not see the necessity of giving it local habitations of a fixed nature. Our 
people do not understand well enough the function of diplomacy to be willing 
to provide for it worthily.” This rather pessimistic estimate of American 
diplomacy and diplomats is made up, it seems to me, of non-sequiturs. 


700 OFFICIAL RESIDENCES FOR AMERICAN DIPLOMATS. 


third-rate one. The case calls for the application of the old adage, 
When in Rome, do as the Romans do. And what is it that the great 
powers do in this affair of official residences? Let me cite a few 
examples, taken, almost at hazard, from the capitals of Continental 
Europe, beginning with Paris, where the system is more largely de- 
veloped, perhaps, than anywhere else. 

The British embassy of Paris occupies a large hdtel, richly fur- 
nished, with a great court on one side and an extensive garden on the 
other, the property running from the Faubourg St.-Honor4 through to 
the Champs-Elys4es. It was purchased by the Duke of Wellington 
when he was sent as ambassador to Louis XVIII., in 1815, and cost, 
with a house and stables in the neighboring Rue d’Anjou, but 600,000 
francs. It is estimated that the buildings and grounds would now 
fetch several times what was paid for them. 

The ambassador of Austria-Hungary is perhaps still more grandly 
provided for than is Lord Dufferin. In 1889 the Duchess of Galiera 
gave to the Emperor her magnificent hotel in the Rue de Varenne, 
valued, with its garden (the largest private one in Paris, I believe), at 
12,000,000 francs. 

The German ambassador occupies a grand establishment in the Rue 
de Ville, with a terrace overlooking the Seine and the Tuileries Garden 
beyond ; the Russian ambassador, a similar residence in the Rue de 
Grenelle ; the Pope’s nuncio, a hotel nearly opposite that of Austria ; 
while several other countries — even China and Japan — rent, in different 
parts of the city, more modest, but permanent, residences. 

Glancing for a moment at a few of the royal capitals, we find at 
Brussels that England owns her minister’s residence, while Germany, 
France, and some other countries rent good houses for their represent- 
atives. The English legation is a fine hdtel, which cost about $50,000, 
and has been occupied for some ten years. 

In Madrid, England, France, Germany, Italy, Austria, Russia, 
Portugal, and Mexico have official residences. The first four nations 
own their embassies, which are thought to have cost about $250,000 
each. 

At the Hague, Germany, France, and Japan have official residences, 
the first since 1890, the second since 1894, and the last longer than 
either of the others. The first two countries own theirs*, while the 
Japanese legation is rented for $1250 per annum. The German lega- 
tion cost $32,000, and the French one about the same. I understand 
that negotiations have just been completed for the purchase by the 
British government of an official residence at the Dutch capital. 

At Athens, though none of the nations own their legations, all, 
except the United States, lease residences for a long term of years. 
The rental of these legations averages about $3000, while most 
countries pay also for the heating, lighting, service, official balls, etc. 
When it is remembered that, while our minister’s salary is but $6500, 
many of his colleagues receive $15,000, even the Servian and Dutch 
charges d’affaires getting rather more than our representative, it is no 
wonder Mr. Alexander exclaims, Tliere is no reason why our ministers 
should not receive salaries sufficiently large to enable them to live in 


OFFICIAL RESIDENCES FOR AMERICAN DIPLOMATS. 701 


reasonable comfort, to pay their social debts to their colleagues and to 
the people among whom they reside, and to entertain visiting country- 
men and women in a modest way/^ 

In Lisbon, England is the only country owning its legation. It 
was purchased in 1879 at a cost of £10,000, and is handsomely fur- 
nished by the government, though the running expenses are paid by 
the minister, whose salary is £3750, while that of our representative 
is $5000, or nearly three-quarters smaller. 

The situation in Constantinople is peculiarly interesting. England, 
France, Russia, Germany, Austria, poor Italy, little Holland, modest 
Sweden and Norway, and barbaric Persia all have permanent embassy 
or legation buildings, while the Great Republic, as we like to have our 
country called, goes about house-hunting, in the person of its minister, 
at every change of administration. The embassies of England, France, 
and Russia are about half a century old. Austria acquired hers by 
the treaty of Campo-Formio, in 1797. The British embassy cost 
£60,000, the German 3,000,000 marks, those of France and Russia 
perhaps from £30,000 to £40,000, while the Swedish legation is esti- 
mated to be worth £10,000, and the Dutch £8000. These prices have 
to do only with the buildings, as the land in every case was a gift from 
the Turkish government. 

Most of the above-mentioned countries have, besides, official 
summer residences, ten miles up the Bosporus, whither the chan- 
celleries are transferred for four or five months in the year. Spain 
and Montenegro also have summer residences. Those of France, 
Germany, Austria, and Montenegro were presented by the Turkish 
government. It cost 100,000 francs to build the villa of the Russian 
ambassador; the very extensive park was a gift. All these country 
edifices are of wood, with the exception of Austria’s, which is of 
brick. 

Let us see what it costs to carry on these dual establishments. The 
official expenses of the British embassy in Turkey, exclusive of the 
ambassador’s servants and entertainments, are about £2500 per annum. 
The Russian ambassador has an allowance of some 50,000 francs for 
annual expenses, and attached to the embassy is a salaried intendant 
who superintends the disbursement of this sum. Add to this the hand- 
some salaries of the leading ambassadors, — the British, £8000 ; the 
French, 150,000 francs ; the Russian, 200,000 francs, and the Aus- 
trian, about the same as the French, — and it will be seen on what a 
magnificent scale European diplomacy is conducted at the capital of 
the unspeakable Turk.” Mr. Terrell, with his modest $10,000 and 
rented house, is of course hopelessly thrown into the shade, socially, 
in such surroundings. 

It will be seen, therefore, — without giving any further examples, 
— that all the great powers and several of the secondary ones have 
pronounced decidedly, and, in most instances, long ago, in favor of 
the official residence for diplomats. Viewed from this stand-point, the 
United States should follow suit. It is a striking case of noblesse 
oblige. 

Once admitted that we must have these permanent embassies and 


702 OFFICIAL RESIDENCES FOR AMERICAN DIPLOMATS. 

legations, — and we will have to come to it soon, just as we did in 1893 
in the matter of ambassadorships, — the question will arise whether we 
should buy or rent, or do both. The supporters of the innovation, 
who are now pressing it upon Congress, favor, I believe, the second 
system, the renting of residences. They fear that the measure will 
fail if the proposition to buy and own in the name of the Federal 
government is broached. But just as we are led to accept the general 
idea of ofiBcial residences because the old European nations have 
found by experience that it is good, so, it seems to me, we should be 
governed by their experience in the putting of the idea into practice. 
In that case we will decide neither to rent exclusively nor to buy ex- 
clusively, but to do both ; for that is what England, France, Germany, 
and the other nations do. 

England in this matter would seem to lean towards purchasing 
rather than renting diplomatic residences; for she rents only at St. 
Petersburg, Copenhagen, and Athens, while she owns her embassies 
or legations at Berlin, Paris, Vienna, Borne, Madrid, Constantinople, 
Brussels, Lisbon, and many of the consulates in the East. France 
and the other leading European countries also follow both plans. A 
very competent member of the English embassy in Paris said to me 
concerning this phase of the matter, ‘‘ It depends, of course, very much 
on local circumstances whether a country should buy or rent its ofi&cial 
residence. In places where there is no difficulty in finding a house, it 
may perhaps be cheaper to hire ; but where there are few houses, for 
which there is competition, it is certainly cheaper to buy.’’ 

Then comes the very important question, What will it cost to 
rent or buy residences ? This matter has already been touched upon 
several times in this paper, but may well be examined a little more 
closely. 

I am informed that from $2000 to $2500 per annum would se- 
cure in Athens a good permanent home for our minister. In Lisbon, 
it is thought that a suitable house would cost, if bought, about $25,000. 
But perhaps we shall get a more complete idea of what this system 
calls for, if practised on a large and thorough scale, by citing the ex- 
penditures in this direction of one or two of the great powers. 

In all parts of the world France has not less than seventy-three 
buildings — embassies, legations, and consulates — belonging to her. To 
keep them up and construct new ones — for France is continually build- 
ing or buying — requires an annual expenditure of about $100,000, a 
remarkably low figure under the circumstances. 

For the fiscal year 1894-95, England spent on her diplomatic and 
consular buildings in Europe £10,976, and in 1895-96, £10,794, — an 
average in the first instance of £998 per post, and in the second of 
£981. The items going to make up these totals are rents, repairs, in- 
surance, allowances to ministers in lieu of furniture, etc. 

In estimating what this innovation would cost us, we must not 
overlook an important outlay under the present system which could be 
placed on the credit side of the new system. I refer to the saving on 
office hire for our embassies, legations, and consulates ; for if we had 
official residences the diplomatic and often the consular offices would be 


OFFICIAL RESIDENCES FOR AMERICAN DIPLOMATS. 703 


under the same roof with the ambassador’s or minister’s apartments. 
In almost all the capitals of Europe this is the practice, especially as 
regards embassy and legation offices. The English embassy h6tel in 
Paris offers a notable example of this custom, the diplomatic, con- 
sular, and commercial bureaus all being centralized in the Faubourg 
St.-Honor6. 

Another item on the credit side of the account would come from 
the proclivity of the wealthy American to give money for public 
objects. There has already been at least one instance of this kind in 
this very matter now under consideration. Before our civil war, a 
member or two of the Paris American Colony offered the government 
a plot of ground if the United States would construct thereon a suit- 
able legation building. I venture to say that more than one gift of 
this kind would be made if it were known that Congress would accept 
it and do the rest. 

Representatives of a parsimonious disposition may object to this 
whole scheme on the ground that if official residences are given to our 
diplomatists. Congress will next be asked to increase their salaries. 
But does this follow ? It is true, however, as has already been seen, 
that our agents are paid far less than those of the greater European 
governments. Thus, France gives her ten ambassadors 1,410,000 
francs, an average salary of 141,000 ; England, her eight ambassadors, 
1,482,500 francs, an average of 185,312; Germany, her eight ambas- 
sadors, 1,225,000 francs, an average of 153,125; while we pay our 
four ambassadors a little over 350,000 francs, an average of a little 
over 87,500 francs, — less than half what the English ambassador 
receives, and a little more than half what the French or the German 
ambassador receives. And, in addition, the ambassadors of these for- 
eign nations are furnished, as we have seen, thoroughly appointed 
mansions. 

Turning to the next diplomatic grade, that of minister, we find, if 
not such a remarkable difference, at least a very considerable one, 
between the salaries of the European and the American diplomatists. 
Thus, the twenty-four French ministers receive a total of 1,236,000 
francs, an average salary of 51,500 ; the thirty-one English ministers, 
2,000,000 francs, an average of 64,534; the twenty-four German 
ministers, 1,225,000 francs, an average of 51,041 ; while our twenty- 
six ministers cost us 1,222,000 francs, an average of 46,923 francs, — 
our average being much less than the English and below those of 
France and Germany. Nor should it be forgotten that here again 
most of the foreign ministers reside in government houses. 

As a rule, the advocates of this measure of official residences for 
our diplomats do not favor an increase of the salary of these agents, 
for several good reasons that need not be gone into here. But on this 
very account they are all the more urgent in asking Congress to give 
a friendly ear to the President’s recommendation, and thus to elevate 
the social position of our diplomatic service and at the same time to 
enhance the reputation of the United States in the eyes of all foreign 
nations. 


Theodore Stanton. 


704 


LOVE IN THE AFTERNOON. 


LOVE IN THE AFTERNOON 

I. 

T OVE/’ observed Willy Somerset, puffing a cigarette, — love, 
Xj having eluded a man in his youth, is not likely to descend upon 
him in his dotage. 

Hey said Colonel Levitt, severely. 

I remarked,’’ was the satisfied rejoinder, that I don’t put any 
faith in this romancing of stock-brokers aged sixty-five.” 

May I inquire what you know about it ?” 

Certainly,” suavely, uncrossing his legs and crossing them again 
the other way. 

‘‘ I’ve never been sixty-five and a stock-broker,” Willy began. 

That’s an entirely superfluous statement,” remarked the colonel, 
with asperity. 

Unless some of us believe in reincarnation,” put in an interested 
third party. 

Shut up. Partridge,” commanded the colonel, affably. 

But I base my opinion on the philosophy of the thing,” Willy 
went on, which is a safer dependence than any old man’s testimony.” 

You’re an ignorant young cub,” was the colonel’s serene reply. 

‘ Cub’ is good !” said two, in unison, mindful of Willy’s father, 
who had been “ bearing” the market until Willy was reduced from 
Mumm’s Extra to St. Julien for dinner. 

Willy understood the gibe, but he preferred to ignore it. 

May I inquire, Colonel Levitt,” he went on, coolly, what you 
know about the question at issue ?” 

There is no one, my dear lad, for whose benefit I would more 
willingly part with any of my modest store of knowledge.” 

The men were sociably settled in one of the club windows, each 
man tilted in his chair at an angle of forty-five degrees, and all four 
were smoking. There were not many members about, and nothing was 
doing, so the colonel was encouraged to tell a story if he had one, or 
to make one if he hadn’t. 

I have a friend ” he began. 

^^Does he ^ write pieces for the papers’?” broke in Cutter, sug- 
gestively. Cutter was an editor, and this formula was familiar to him. 

ITo,” was the imperturbable reply, looking at Cutter straight : 
“ he edits a paper ; and a beastly poor paper it is, too.” 

Cutter subsided. 

“ I have a friend,” the colonel went on, impressively, “ who is not 
sixty-five, but somewhere over fifty, and he’s got one of the worst 
cases of love-sickness I’ve ever seen.” 

Is he bald-headed ?” inquired Willy, thinking of ballet-girls. 

He is not, sir, but you may be if you continue to interrupt me.” 

Shut up, Willy,” commanded Cutter, sharply. 

The colonel looked from one to the other. 


LOVE IN THE AFTERNOON. 


705 


When the gentlemen have finished he said, bowing politely. 

The next man who interrupts treats the crowd to dinner. Go on, 
colonel,” said Partridge, who was a judge, in his most judicial manner. 

“ My friend was in the war,” the colonel began, — went through 
it, pretty much, — and when he came out his father was dead and he 
had to knuckle down and look out for his mother and sister and two 
youngsters wanting to go to college. Well, he put those kids through 
Dartmouth, and shouldered things generally, and before he knew it 
he was a plodding old sober-sides whom it would have shocked the 
community to believe capable of romantic feelings. 

Have you ever noticed what an influence it has on a man when 
the community form an ideal for him and expect, without knowing 
that they do, that he will conform to it? Well, the community got to 
thinking of Dave as the support of his mother and young brothers, 
and, by Jove, I don’t believe Dave would have had the cheek to get 
married if he had wanted to. 

“ But he never wanted to, that I could see. The girls understood 
his position and took no pains to flaunt their coquetries for his benefit, 
and, while he was by no means unsociable, his ways of life did not 
take him into intimacies with any w^men-folks. I don’t believe he 
ever knew a woman well enough to fall in love with her. 

By the time his mother died and his sister married, he was a 
confirmed clubman, and when the kids started in for themselves Dave 
just quietly moved his pipes and box of books to a room in the club, 
and there he’s been ever since. Everybody told everybody else he was 
‘a confirmed old bachelor,’ and, by George, if he didn’t fall into the 
rut public opinion had cut for him, again ! 

‘^Several months ago a friend of his invited him home to dine. 
This friend is a widower ; a maiden sister keeps house for him, and — 
would you believe it? — Dave met his fate. He did, for a fact. This 
friend of his is that mustiest of fiends, an old-book collector, and that 
hypocrite Dave, who doesn’t know a first edition from a barrel of pork, 
has taken to trotting to his friend’s house on all sorts of fool errands 
about this and that * old treasure.’ 

“ Now, the ‘ old treasure’ Dave is after is only forty years old or 
thereabouts, which is not so very aged for a rare one, but Dave thinks 
this treasure is not duplicated anywhere on earth. He thinks there 
was only one copy struck off from this perfect plate, and that that copy 
was designed with special reference to his owning it. In fact, I never 
saw any one so possessed to get anything as Dave is to get that limited 
edition. The rank old hypocrite !” 

The colonel was enjoying his story, and so were his auditors. 

The rank old hypocrite !” he repeated, chuckling gleefnlly. 

“ The friend thinks Dave is a maniac like himself. He’s mistaken 
in the kind of maniac, that’s all. But he’s pleased with that arch- 
deceiver my friend, and encourages him to come, and — and — that’s all.” 

All ?” said Cutter. 

All ?” echoed Partridge. 

Ye-yes, all,” said the colonel, helplessly. You see, Dave doesn’t 
know what to do next.” 

VoL. LVII.— 45 


706 


LOVE IN THE AFTERNOON. 


“Do DGxt?’’ demanded Willy. “Do next? Why doesn’t the old 
fool ash her ?” 

“ Young man,” inquired the colonel, severely, “ have you ever asked 
a woman to marry you ?” 

“ Half a dozen,” said Willy, cheerfully. 

“How d’ you do it?” was the breathless query, forgetting severity 
in interest. 

“ Well, you see, it depends on the woman,” Willy returned, indefi- 
nitely. “ Moonlight nights are good,” he went on, encouragingly. 

“ Moonlight nights?” feebly. 

“ Yes. You take her down by the water, if she’s sentimental, and 
gaze on the moon, and then you quote some poetry, if you know any, 
and presently you squeeze her hand, and — oh, she’ll help you along a 
little bit, if she’s any good.” 

“ I see,” said the colonel, pensively ; “but I — he never goes down 
by the water with her ; never goes anywhere, in fact. You see, she 
doesn’t know — hasn’t the least idea.” 

“Oh, she hasn’t?” carelessly. “Well, then, you have to go about 
it differently. ‘ Reveries of a Bachelor’ is good, and so is ‘ Prue and I.’ 
Read ’em aloud, you know, and grow touchingly husky if you can. 
Then make a pathetic remark or two about your loneliness, and if 
she’s at all sympathetic that’ll fetch her.” 

“ It will?” doubtfully. 

“ Usually does,” said Willy, encouragingly. 

“ But how shall I — how should he go to work to read senti- 
mental books aloud to a lady who hardly takes any notice of his ex- 
istence ?” 

“ The deuce she doesn’t !” 

“ No,” falteringly. “ You see, she thinks he comes to see her 
brother, and she’s just civil to him, and that’s all. The rank old 
hypocrite !” 

The colonel sighed like a furnace, — however that may be. He 
seemed to be in deep sympathy with his friend. 

“Then he’d better cultivate a passion for fancy-work, since he’s so 
good at hypocrisy,” suggested Partridge : “ splashers, or wool slippers, 
or tidies, or ‘ God-bless-our-home’s.” 

“ I don’t believe she’s that kind of a person,” said the colonel, 
drawing himself up with a superior air. 

“ Well, then, it’s his business to find out what kind of a person she 
is,” returned Partridge, winking his off eye at Cutter. 

“ I advise him to find out what she affects, whether it’s ‘ homely 
friendless,’ or Ibsen, or social settlements, or Christian Science. Great 
governor’s ghost, man ! tlie days are past and gone when you can lay 
siege to a woman as you would to a fortress, and win her. It’s the 
slickest man that gets the bun in these days, you bet.” 

“ I see,” remarked the colonel, in a tone which indicated that what- 
ever he saw was the reverse of encouraging. 

“ Oh, it’s something of a trick to win a woman,” Cutter put in, 
decidedly. 

“ And it’s more of a trick to keep one,” Partridge added, grimly. 


LOVE IN THE AFTERNOON 707 

Dog-gone you fellows/' shouted the colonel, irascibly, is this 
the best you can do to encourage a man when he's dumpy?" 

Who's dumpy?" inquired Willy, with wicked innocence. 

Colonel Levitt reddened. 

I think I know your friend," remarked Cutter the pitiless. 

I'd never have thought it of you, Levitt," began Partridge, in 
mocking reproach. 

I've never surprised the world yet, but I'll do it some day, by 
Jove !" said the colonel. If she’ll have me," he added, reflectively. 

Here’s success to you, old man !" cried Cutter, rising and holding 
out his hand. 

Thank you. Cutter," the colonel answered, shaking it warmly. 

^^Call on me for any experienced help,” said Willy, very much in 
earnest. 

And remember I'm your legal adviser,” Partridge reminded him, 
as he shook his hand. 

Let me treat to a toast,” said Cutter. Colonel, what'll you 
drink while we toast your success?" 


II. 

Willy Somerset had been as good as his word. The young rogue 
made the acquaintance of Eldredge Arnot, under the colonel's hesi- 
tating introduction, and in less than two weeks irrepressible Willy had 
enticed Arnot to visit the library of a musty friend of the Somersets, 
while Levitt was instructed to “ sail in and win while the coast was 
clear.” 

He was sailing, very fearfully, at half-past eight, when he rang the 
bell and inquired, hypocritically, for Mr. Arnot. 

*^Out, is he? I'm very sorry. [O recording angel, turn your 
deaf ear!] Will you ask if Miss Arnot is at home?" 

Miss Arnot was at home, and glad to see her brother's friend. 

I wish you might have gone with him to-night. Colonel Levitt," 
she said, with pleasant interest. He went to see somebody's new 
acquisitions from a great English sale. You would have been so 
interested.” 

Yes, indeed,” murmured the colonel, altogether dead now to the 
sense of truthfulness. 

Miss Arnot was knitting some big fleecy blue-and- white thing, for 
the perambulator of a new young niece, she explained. She wore a 
dark dress and a witching little white Swiss apron with yellow bows 
on its tiny pockets. The colonel thought he had never seen anything 
quite so pretty. 

Books are interesting,” he told her, but you can't think what a 
pleasure it is to a lonely old clubman to be welcomed into cheer like 
this and have the opportunity to spend a little time in a lady's com- 
pany.” 

He was quite surprised at his own ease of manner, not having 
counted on the wonderfully assuring influence of a self-possessed, cor- 
dial gentlewoman in her own home. 


708 


LGVE IN THE AFTERNOON. 


The atmosphere was so friendly, and the surroundings were fairly 
inspiring to the homesick man. There were crackling chunks of cannel 
coal in the grate, cleaving neatly every little while and sending uj) 
broad new sheets of blaze which toasted one’s shins and warmed the 
cockles of one’s heart. The big lamp on Miss Arnot’s table had a 
huge yellow shade which threw a softly pretty light on the immediate 
surroundings and made fascinating shadows in the remoter parts of the 
room. 

Watch, a splendid Scotch collie, shaggy as a small lion and as noble 
of mien, lay close beside his mistress, blinking contentedly in the fire- 
light, and near, also, sat Colonel Levitt in a capacious arm-chair, even 
more than content, — quite deliciously overcome, in fact. 

Poor old colonel ! He felt as if heaven must have opened and 
taken him in, in some mysterious way. He had an almost irresistible 
impulse to pinch himself and see if he were dreaming. 

They talked of many things, and he was astonished to find how 
easy, how delightful, it was to converse with an intelligent woman. 

Once, while Miss Arnot was telling him something, he let his 
thoughts stray, without meaning to, to a consideration of some of the 
other women to whom he had talked of late years. Who were they, 
that this woman should seem so difierent ? 

There were the Sally Frizzletops of young buds” he occasionally 
met at teas and receptions when the wife of his best friend gave 
one and his friend expected him to attend. There were the Mrs. 
Frizzletops, who mostly talked about their Sallies, and a few ancient 
Miss Frizzletops, who talked to him hysterically about finance and 
asked fool questions about politics, in the pathetic attempt to interest. 

Miss Arnot shook her head smilingly and said finance, except as 
connected with shopping, was a sealed book to her, and that although 
her sympathies were Republican she hadn’t the least idea in the world 
why they were. 

Of course not,” the colonel argued to himself, delightedly. Only 
uninteresting women try to bid for masculine favor by talking about 
masculine subjects, and only silly Frizzletop women think themselves 
so charming that men should be made to talk to them about feminine 
subjects. It was wonderful, now, to see how many things, interesting 
things, a woman like Miss Arnot could find to talk on, — things neither 
masculine nor feminine, but common ground. 

Listen to what she was saying now, about individuality and a 
man’s duty to make the moral law fit him instead of spending his life 
in a vain endeavor to make himself fit the moral law. * As if man 
were made for the laws, and not the laws for men,’ ” she said. 

Don’t you think, colonel,” laying down her knitting for a moment 
and looking at him with distracting earnestness, that an inflexible law 
is unjust, — either socially or morally?” 

do, indeed answered the colonel, solemnly, just as he would 
have answered if she had asked him did he think the moon was made 
of green cheese. 

I do, indeed,” he said, and then reflected, with a swift, sudden 
dismay, that this was the woman he had meant to ask to marry him. 


LOVE IN THE AFTERNOON. 


709 


Marry him? The idea! He wondered, bitterly, what he had 
been thinking of. 

I’d eat my head before I’d let her think I am an ass,” he told 
himself. “ But I am an ass, all the same,” he added, a blankety- 
blank ass, and it’ll be a wonder if she doesn’t find it out pretty soon. 
I guess I’d better go before she has any further chance,” he concluded, 
wishing he could kick himself. 

Oh, you infernal old idiot !” he muttered to himself as he went 
down the steps. 

Miss Arnot had bidden him such a cordial good-night and urged 
him so hospitably to come again, expressing her enjoyment of the 
evening, that the poor old colonel was remorse-stricken. 

‘‘ You infernal old idiot !” he reiterated, half crying. 

When he got back to the club, Willy was there, having just left 
Mr. Arnot. 

“ Well?” he queried, blandly. 

“ ‘ Wdlf you miserable young donkey, — ^ well ?’ How many wells 
made a river when you went to kindergarten ?” 

Well, by — darn !” said Willy, in drawling amazement. Did 
you get the mitten ?” 

Willy Somerset,” said the colonel, huskily, drawing himself up in 
the dignity of offended pride, “ Willy Somerset, there are some things 
in the world in which gibes have no place.” 

“ I beg your pardon, colonel.” Willy held out his hand in such 
winning contriteness that the colonel forgave him at once. 

‘^That’s all right, lad,” he told him. “You meant no harm, I 
dare say, but I’m such a confounded old ass ! Oh, Lord ! such an 
ass !” 

“ Why, what have you done?” asked Willy, apprehensively. 

“Done? Willy ! Done?” the old man wailed, covering his face 
with his hands for very shame. “ Oh, why did you let me make an 
idiot of myself?” 

“ Why, what on earth have you done. Colonel Levitt ?” 

“I haven’t Mone’ anything,” was the reply, so wearily that Willy 
almost laughed in spite of himself. 

“ But the idea of my thinking of marrying Miss Arnot ! Oh, 
Lord! Oh, Lord!” 

The colonel covered his face again. 

“ Isn’t she as nice as you thought she was ?” queried Willy, think- 
ing he began to understand. 

“‘Nice’? Why, Willy, I wish you could see her. If she were 
only just a plain, commonly nice woman I w^ouldn’t mind asking her 
so very much ; but I’d no more sail up to that woman and ask her to 
marry me than I’d take ship for England and ask her Majesty.” 

“ Oh, I guess it isn’t as bad as all that,” returned Willy, cheer- 
fully. 

The colonel shook his head. 

“ Oh, come, now ! If she’s so awfully worth having, she’s worth 
trying for. You wouldn’t want her to drop into your arms at the first 
‘ will you ?’ anyway. I’ve had that kind, and they’re no good. It’s 


710 


LOVE IN THE AFTERNOON. 


the ones that hold out that you appreciate when you get ’em, and you 
enjoy the hustling, too, after you get started, though you do get down 
in the mouth some of the time. I’ll keep you jollied up, though, and 
we’ll win yet, you bet,” 

Willy looked so confident that the colonel began to have a faint 
hope. 

You see, you just keep going all you can, and by and by, if you 
act right, she’ll begin to tumble to what you’re about. See? Then 
the rest’ll come easy. You needn’t think so precious little of yourself 
as you do. Why, most women would be tickled to pieces to get a man 
like you. I tell you,” went on the wise young worldling, with un- 
conscious quaintness, real, fine, up-and-up gentlemen, good and rev- 
erent and all that, aren’t growing on brambles nowadays. If I had 
an aunt or anybody, and you were courting her, I’d tell her she was 
dead lucky and better thank her stars if you asked her. I’ll tell Miss 
Arnot so, if you want me to.” 

^‘Oh, no, no, thank you,” said the colonel, nervously. Willy’s 
naive estimate of him had touched the elder man deeply. He felt 
very unworthy of it, remembering all his frailties with one swift flash 
of conscience, and failing, as was habitual with him, to remember all 
his virtues. He was glad, though, that his young associate should 
believe well of him. It had been his life habit to believe the best 
things of all men, and he had tested its alchemic influence. 

I’m glad you think well of me, my lad,” he said, simply, with 
the quiet grace of a born gentleman. You’ve been over-generous to 
me, but it’s a good way to err in judgment, I’ve found. I, like most 
men, know how much I deserve, and want to be deserving of the rest. 
It’s a good way, Willy : stick to it.” 

I will, sir,” said Willy, quite impressed. 


III. 

“ Shake hands with your fairy godson,” said Willy, coming into 
Levitt’s room in great excitement. “ I wave my hand, and, lo ! your 
happiness !” 

“ Talk American, you young idiot,” said the colonel, affably. 

‘‘Well, to be plain, have you seen much of Mr. Arnot on your 
recent calls at his home?” 

“ N-no, I haven’t,” admitted Levitt. 

“ Ha !” said Willy. “ He hasn’t casually mentioned to you what 
has kept him from home so much, has he?” 

“ No, I can’t say that he has,” was the reply. 

“ Didn’t tell you he was a-sparkin’, eh ? Oh, he’s a deep old sin- 
ner, he is ! Well, he’s engaged.” 

“ The deuce he is !” cried the colonel, excitedly. 

“ The same,” Willy returned, sardonically gleeful. 

“ He is, and / did it,” he went on, — “ did it for your dear sake. 
Colonel Levitt.” 

“ Explain, you young rascal.” 

“With pleasure. You see, ‘I pondered, pondered deeply,’ as the 


LOVE IN THE AFTERNOON. 


711 


poet says, and came to the conclusion that the slickest thing that could 
happen to you would be that Mr. Arnot should possess himself of a 
nice, new wife, — although the niceness wasn’t so very particular, except 
out of kindness to Mr. Arnot,” he added, as an after-thought. 

Then Miss Arnot’s nose would be out of joint, so to speak, and 
there’d be your chance to sail in and offer her a home of her own to 
run. See? Well, I ups and casts a wishful eye around for a spouse 
for friend Arnot. I tried to be conscientious and pick a good one ; I 
did, honor bright. And then I takes the old covey around on a slick 
pretence, and with a little manoeuvring, by George, if he didn’t catch 
on as neat as you could wish ! And now he’s smitten that bad you’d 
have to laugh ; even you would.” 

Willy was doubled up in the most awful contortions of mirth, and 
it was some moments before the colonel could get him to proceed. 

“ O — h, but it’s rich !” he said, rocking back and forth in enjoy- 
ment of his own cleverness. 

“ He’s announcing his engagement to-day,” Willy went on, and 
my advice to you is that you go right up and congratulate him. Then 
he’ll go out, of course” (with a snicker), “ and then you ups and asks 
Miss Arnot to come and keep house for you. See?” 

Oh, I couldn’t. I don’t think I could, — not just yet,” faltered 
the colonel, overcome at the prospect when it got so near. 

Yes, you can,” insisted Willy. “ Get up and dress your dandiest, 
and then as soon as you’ve eaten a good square dinner to brace you 
well, up you go and seize the golden opportunity which the gods and 
Willy Somerset have brought to your feet. Come, now,” as he saw 
signs of weakness; ‘‘an old soldier isn’t going to show the white 
feather.” 

“ That’s different, — soldiering is,” maintained the colonel, stoutly. 

“ Oh, well, the same principle applies,” said Willy, who was not 
sure whether it did or not, but thought best to say so. 

“ Now I’m going to eat dinner with you in precisely half an hour, 
and after that I’m going to call a cab and drive with you to the Arnot 
door. After all my skilful campaigning I’m not going to have this 
thing fall through because an old veteran is shaky in the knees. No 
siree ! That poor lady is in a bad fix now, with her occupation gone, 
and a new mistress coming to take her place, and, if you’ve got any 
sense of gallantry at all, you’ll rise to her rescue. In half an hour, 
mind.” 

So saying, Willy left the colonel to his agitated reflections. That 
last shot of the young scapegrace’s had told, just as he hoped it would. 
The colonel gathered courage to do as a duty what he could scarcely 
have done as a privilege, and at twelve o’clock that night they all 
drank his health and long life, at the club, and Willy, nodding at the 
beaming colonel, said, solemnly, — 

“ I don’t know about this love which has eluded youth. I rather 
think it gathers force in waiting, until, when it strikes a man in his 
prime, like our colonel, it throws the sickly young passions of us kids 
into the shade. Here,” raising his glass, “ is to love in the afternoon !” 

Clara E. Laughlin. 


712 


IN THE ABBEY OF QETHSEMANE. 


IN THE ABBEY OF GETHSEMANE, 

T here is a point ill Nelson County, Kentucky, from which the 
north-bound traveller on the Bardstowu road sees across low 
intervening hills the grayish-white spire of the Trappist monastery 
of Gethsemane. It is an impressive sight to him who views it thus, 
rearing its cross to the sky above the green of the trees, while all about 
the stillness is that of the most primitive country-side. One feels a 
wish to leave the monastery wagon, if it be that he travels by, and walk 
to the top of one of the surrounding hills, there to sit for a while and 
watch the scene before him. This cannot be done, for over the shoulder 
of the boy who drives the wagon hangs a home-made leather mail-bag, 
and the visitor to Gethsemane must know that, although the abbey 
mail may be small and perhaps unimportant, the abbot awaits it within 
his cloistered walls. 

. The wagon rolls on, and the spire is lost to view. Bits of stony 
ground divide the cornfields on either side. Presently the spire is 
again seen, now with a portion of the abbey walls and the four smaller 
spires that rise from the base of their larger neighbor. At last a small 
brook is crossed, a slight hill climbed, and the great abbey lies full in 
view. For half a mile or more the visitor has been driving over the 
lands of the monastery, unknowingly perhaps, but now he realizes that 
he is upon ground which for more than fifty years has been devoted to 
the uses of a religious house. Before him, at the end of two long 
double rows of beautiful English elms, is the porter’s lodge ; beyond it 
is the abbey, simple in design, inferior in construction, bare of orna- 
mentation, but with a strength of outline and an air of repose that 
may well arouse the interest of even the chance passer-by. If one 
would see the building in its best aspect, he should cross the little valley 
to the west, in which are the saw- and grist-mills of the house, and stand 
upon one of the low hills that are beyond. Thence it is seen in all its 
sturdy grace. Its shape is quadrangular, with an inner court. On 
the northwest corner the spire towers above the walls of the Monks’ 
Chapel. Below lies the graveyard, where the dead outnumber the living 
within the abbey walls. Adjoining the Monks’ Chapel is the Chapel of 
Rest, a place of worship for those who are not members of the order. 
The high Gothic windows of both churches reach almost to the roof, but 
around them is none of the carving that is seen in cathedral windows. 
This corner of the building is upon the edge of a hill-side, and the 
heavy moss-grown wall surrounding the graveyard rises to twice the 
height of a man above the level of the graves within, that those without 
may not look upon the resting-place of the dead. 

It may be that the visitor does not scan the architecture of the 
building nor appreciate the beauty of the elms as he rides over the 
hundred yards of pathway that lie between the entrance gate and the 
porter’s lodge. Probably he is thinking of all that is before him 
within the monastery, and of the strange order of monks who inhabit 


IN THE ABBEY OF OETHSEMANE. 


713 


the place. Well he may, for here a survival of the uinth century 
struggles with the nineteenth ; beyond the gate the traditions of mediae- 
valism uphold a religious order more austere than could be born to-day. 
If one would have all frivolity taken from him, if he would be op- 
pressed by a loneliness such, possibly, as he has never felt, let him go 
alone and with slight knowledge of the rules of tlie order to the abbey 
of Gethsemane. The only sounds known to the passionless life within 
its walls, other than the quiet movements of its inmates, are the words 
of the services recited, chanted, or sung, the subdued tones of the con- 
fessional, and the few sentences the orderly management of the house 
necessitates. The vow of perpetual silence rests upon all ; laughter 
is unknown ; of all the monks the abbot only is free to speak at all 
times, though to his questions all must answer. To him any monk may 
go for spiritual advice, and to him all must go for material direction. 
He, when his predecessor died, was chosen from among their number 
by the ballot of his fellows, and he will serve until he too is taken 
away. He is the spiritual and temporal head of the abbey. Each monk 
must answer the questions of his superior in rank, and the superior may 
direct an inferior to perform duties that require the use of speech ; in 
such cases the monk is for the occasion absolved from the vow, though 
at all other times the rule demands absolute silence. It is this rule, 
perhaps, that is found most difficult to keep, but it is maintained in- 
violate : there are monks within the abbey who for more than forty 
years have not exchanged a word. 

The regulations of the order are rigid in all things, as in this, and 
the daily routine is performed to-day as it was when the Trappists first 
became known for the severity of their discipline. Each moment of 
the day is devoted to a duty. Idleness finds no harbor in the abbey. 
In the division of labor each monk has his part, whether it be in the 
sewing-room, where the light from tlie high windows falls upon the 
piles of white serge and brown, or in the sheds where tlie cider-presses 
creak, or where the abbey saw-mill whirls. Steadily, industriously, 
but with no word or smile for one another nor look toward the visitor, 
communicating only by signs or inarticulate sounds, the brothers fulfil 
their allotted tasks. Within the abbey walls, in the college of the Sacred 
Heart, or in the school of Mount Olivet, each father performs his daily 
work. In the fields, in the workshops, in the gardens, in the vineyard, 
the brown robes of the lay brothers come and go, while among them 
from time to time, as their duties require, are seen the white garments 
of the fathers of the order. It is the color of their garments that 
outwardly distinguishes the two classes of monks. Of these two 
classes, the fathers are the men of education, and their duties are less 
menial ; the brothers are the workers in the field. Each class is again 
divided into two ranks, the professed monks and the oblates. The 
professed monks — those who have taken the final vows and have con- 
secrated their lives to the order — wear a black leather belt. The 
fathers who have taken the final vows are further distinguished by a 
bluish-black scapular worn over their white robes. In the main their 
dress is that of the working class of the ninth century. Change is 
unknown in the Trappist order ; as it was in the beginning, so it is 


714 


IN THE ABBEY OF QETHSEMANE. 


to-day. The services that were sung when De Ranc6 became the head 
of the Abbey of La Trappe and gave its name to the branch of the 
Cistercian order that embraced his reforms are sung now as then. To- 
day is like this day a year ago or fifty years ago, and so it may be 
when the dead rise from their graves. 

The order of Our Lady of La Trappe has known the fluctuations 
of fortune ; on it from time to time has fallen the iron hand of the law ; 
but through the trials of adversity, as well as in times of better plight, 
its influence has lasted through many generations. It has had a strange 
history, this order of La Trappe, unusual in its birth and far from 
commonplace in all its life. It sprang from the Cistercian order, which 
is itself a reform of the order established by St. Benedict, the patriarch 
of Western monks. The birthplace of the Trappist body was the abbey 
of La Trappe, in the department of Orne in Normandy. The chivalry 
of Europe was about to hurl itself a second time upon the Moslems in 
the Holy Land when a little colony of Benedictine monks took up their 
abode in the monastery that has handed down its name to the suc- 
ceeding centuries as the most ascetic of all religious orders. In less 
than a decade its monks were noted for their piety. Then came a time 
of trial, when during the incessant wars between France and England 
the armies of both countries plundered the lands about the abbey. This 
devastation, together with the enforced absence of the monks from 
their home, relaxed their rules and weakened their religious fervor, 
and when Louis XIV. ascended his throne the few remaining fathers 
were known as the Brigands of La Trappe.’^ Then from out the 
licentiousness of the H6tel Bambouillet into the most severe service 
of the religious devotee passed the man whose austere reforms have 
made this division of the Cistercian body known to the farthest limits 
of papal power. They say it was the death of the Duchess de Mont- 
hazon that turned Dominique Armand Jean Le Bouthillier de Ranee 
from the wildly gay life he had led to the cloister of the well-nigh 
ruined abbey of La Trappe. Be that as it may, he put aside his sword 
and lace and velvet in 1662 and gave the remainder of his years to 
the service of his Church. De Ranc6 has lain in his grave for nearly 
two centuries, but his rigid example and the strict regulations he estab- 
lished yet live as they did in the days of Louis XIV. 

Since the death of De Ranc§ there have come to the Trappists 
many periods of adversity. Again and again the order has felt the 
edict of suppression and known the pain of enforced wandering in 
alien lands. Within the last fifty years it has lost a legal life in three 
European countries. Such vicissitude it was that first brought mem- 
bers of the order to America. To Pennsylvania, then to Kentucky, 
then to Missouri, then to Illinois, and back to France again when the 
Revolution was over, was the itinerary of the earliest band of Trappists 
who sought the New World. Later, some years before the half-way 
point in the nineteenth century, a second colony of the order settled 
within the limits of the United States. They chose the Catholic set- 
tlement in Kentucky as their home. Thence no law has driven them, 
no public outcry has been raised against them. Cannot a church be 
truly measured by the love of its neighbors? Then the abbey of 


IN THE ABBEY OF QETHSEMANE. 


715 


Gethsemaiie stands high in grace. The Nelson County farmer does 
not speak of the “ abbey” nor of the monastery,” but only of the 
monks.” The personal title he gives the institution, informal yet 
reverent, indicates the high regard he has for the fathers of Gethsemane. 
Nor is his confidence misplaced, for in all things he has found them 
kindly and helpful; from their door no beggar has gone hungry, and 
under their roof every wanderer finds a home and spiritual help. 

No matter in what creed the visitor to Gethsemane has been reared, 
no matter what religious traditions he may cherish, intolerant though 
he may be of all devotional restraint, he cannot but feel when he 
has passed within its gates that he is among a body of men who are 
thoroughly sincere in their piety and who have reached a state of 
earthly content that is vouchsafed to few who know the bustling outer 
world. The quiet life, the daily devotion, the meditation freed from 
tlie worry of a life more active, must needs bring peace and rest and 
calmness of mind. Yet this unvarying existence does not rob the 
monks of individuality, for, although guided by but one motive, their 
faces indicate the workings of widely different temperaments. Here 
is one whose calm piety is unmarred by a trace of passion or misdoing ; 
there is another that tells of inward tumult and the victory of the 
right; this breathes sweetness all about it; that is furrowed by a rapt 
devotion that wracks the soul within. One can almost distinguish by 
the expression of their countenances those monks who have taken the 
final vows from those who are serving their novitiate. The former are 
happy and contented ; the latter, it may be, are restive under the re- 
straint. Of the first class there are Germans, Irishmen, Swiss, Aus- 
trians, and many Frenchmen ; but, strange as it may seem, no Ameri- 
cans wear the black belt. It is a life that does not suit the temper of 
the New World ; the restless, energetic American spirit cannot long 
endure the restrictions of the cloister, and does not take kindly to the 
self-inflicted weekly scourging with the five-knotted rope. Many have 
tried the life, but no American has continued up to the taking of the 
final vows. They are not vows to be taken lightly, and he who makes 
them must know their weight. 

When the oblate has passed his novitiate and expressed a wish to 
become a professed monk, he is fully informed of the duties he is 
about to assume, and after a searching examination his name is placed 
before his fellows that they may ballot upon the question of his ad- 
mission to full membership in the order. His future life depends upon 
their vote. Most of the monks within the abbey have not wholly 
forsaken the world, for of the fifty but fourteen have taken the pledges 
that irrevocably bind them to the order. All the fathers are men 
of at least fair education. Many of them have travelled in desolate 
regions. One has tramped the Pampas of South America; another 
has voyaged upon the Red River of the North ; a third has wandered 
in the country of the Montezumas. Some have been members of the 
priesthood since their youth, others only a few years ; but on them all 
rests the benediction of a perfect peace. They are working for the 
salvation of their souls, and no deprivation is too great. Thirty 
years of this life,” said one of the brothers, is better than an hour 


716 


IN THE ABBEY OF QETHSEMANE, 


in hell.” Long before thirty more years have rolled away he will be 
where his eyes have looked so long. In his devotion he does not think 
of bodily pain : what physical anguish can come to one whose soul is 
at ease? The breaking of morning, the daily labor, and the setting 
of the sun mean to him only that another day has carried him nearer 
to everlasting joy. But it is not so to all : among the novitiates there 
are some who are not happy in the life. An oblate expressed his 
restlessness when he said, It is a hard life, but the dreadful thing 
about it is the silence.” He had not found it what he hoped, but in 
his veins flowed the unrest of this his native land. 

The visitor who has passed the threshold of the porter’s lodge has 
left behind him for the time the world of strife and care. Presidents 
come and go, creeds flourish and decline, epidemics threaten and catas- 
trophes appall, the world weeps or perhaps rejoices, yet not a ripple 
disturbs the placid life within the abbey. The porter’s lodge, it may 
be said, is a bar against which the waves of the world break without 
avail. It is the outer gate of the abbey. Beyond it lies a large court- 
yard, bounded on two sides by the abbey and the lodge and on the other 
two by high brick walls. In this court are trees and flowers, and in their 
midst, surrounded by a lattice, is a figure of the Virgin Mary, carved 
from wood and thickly covered with white paint. This figure, rough 
but effective in execution, is one of many in and about the abbey that 
were carved by a monk who now lies under a cross in the monastery 
graveyard. 

A flight of steps leads from this outer court into the square 
entrance hall of the abbey. In the centre, by the balustrade of the 
stairway that reaches to the floor above, hangs the rope of a bell which 
is used to call those of the officers of the monastery who should re- 
spond to such a summons. Its tones have not the sonorous solemnity 
of the great bell that hangs in the spire, sending down from aloft its 
commands to prayer, to service, or to sleep. That great bell, ringing 
at stated times, is one of the most impressive features of the place. 
Through all the cloister, and over the fields that lie about, its peals 
ring out as they have rung for forty years. What might the penance 
be for the delinquent monk should the great bell fail to toll ? Surely, 
since he who drops his fork at table must prostrate himself upon the 
floor, he who fails to call his brothers at the hour of prayer must 
undergo a punishment that is not light. 

Some of the arrangements within the abbey strike the visitor as 
incongruous. The monks’ garments are cut as they were in Richelieu’s 
day, yet the house is lighted by gas. Although the frequent use of the 
bath is prohibited as tending to self-indulgence, a furnace sends its heat 
throughout the building. Outside the walls such contrasts are less 
noticeable. The farm-implements are modern and in good repair ; the 
horses, cattle, pigs, and chickens are well cared for, despite the fact 
that the monks, unlike most Trappists, are but indifferent farmers. 
Of the sixteen hundred acres of their domain much is poor land, and 
the farm as a whole is so unprofitable that the fathers cannot raise 
enough upon it to supply their own table. This requires them to 
depend in part upon the produce of the surrounding country. The 


IN THE ABBEY OF OETHSEMANE. 


717 


institution, self-supporting as it is, relies upon the sale of its cider, 
cheese, live stock, chickens, and eggs for revenue. Not only does it 
purchase a portion of its supplies from the farmers about ; it finds it 
necessary to hire many farm-hands to aid in the cultivation of its land. 
These farm-hands, living upon the abbey domain, are to a certain 
extent under the spiritual direction of the abbot, as well as subject to 
his physical orders. They do not, however, follow the strict routine 
of the monks ; neither do they take the vow of silence nor shave their 
heads. In the mode of shaving the heads of the monks the abbey 
has bowed to nineteenth-century improvement. Time was when the 
razor shaved both head and beard, but now the clippers of the outer 
world give the hair a monthly cutting, while the razor of the abbey 
barber shaves each beard once a fortnight. 

In eating, as in all things else, the Trappist rules are austere. 
During Lent the only meal of the day is eaten at half-past four in the 
afternoon, and at no season do the daily meals exceed two. Whatever 
may be the reason, the Trappists are strict vegetarians, and, except in 
cases of severe illness, soup, bread, fruit, vegetables, and a pint of 
cider are their only articles of diet. Notwithstanding the infrequency 
of their meals and the frugality of their table, the monks do not seem 
to lack nourishment. They are pale, some of them, and some of them 
are thin, but not in a way suggestive of hunger, and were it not for 
their universal nervousness one would never suspect that the rigor of 
their life tells upon them at all. With them eating is hardly more 
than a duty ; they take their food only that they may preserve strength 
to perform the labor assigned them. The dining-room of the world at 
large is wont to know the flow of conversation, the sparkle of repartee, 
the ripple of laughter ; but it is not so in the refectory of the abbey 
of Gethsemane. There the meals are eaten in absolute silence, save 
only for the voice of the monk who reads a service as his fellows dine. 
For any noise the maker must do penance. Neither does the room 
itself nor the furniture in it tend to light-heartedness. It is all severely 
plain, in keeping with the meal. On one side stands the lectern ; before 
it are the long, narrow dining-tables, roughly fashioned from black 
walnut. There is no beauty in the stools on which the monks sit, nor 
do the earthenware plates and cups and the plain knives that are with 
them lend themselves readily to a jaded appetite. The forks and 
spoons are of wood, rudely carved. See, each monk makes his own,” 
said the guest-master. The room, the furniture, and the table-service 
are all in accord with the ascetic character of the abbey, and follow the 
spirit of the teachings of De Ranc6 and his predecessors in monastic 
orders. 

The rule of St. Benedict, which is observed by the Trappists, 
prescribes that members of the order shall sleep in a common room, 
but apart. To fulfil this regulation the monks occupy closets or cells 
somewhat like the state-rooms of a small steamboat. Following the 
letter of St. Benedict’s law, the partitions extend neither to the ceiling 
nor to the floor, but only high and low enough to aflbrd a degree of 
seclusion to the occupants. The mattresses are stuffed with straw ; the 
blankets, one to each bed, lie neatly folded during the day. Windows 


718 IN the abbey of gethsemane. 

on two sides admit the light in plenty. Here the monks lie down at 
eight o’clock in their day garments to get what rest they can until two 
in the morning, when the bell calls them to matins, the earliest service. 
On Sundays and on certain feast- or fast-days they rise at one o’clock, 
or even at midnight. The dormitory is the room of all the abbey in 
which the monks spend fewest of their waking hours ; yet, however 
plain, with its bright sunlight and clean white paint it is the most 
cheerful apartment in the house. No doubt it is intended that the 
room most pleasing to the eye shall be least seen, for, although the 
monks are directed to maintain cheerful countenances, cheerful sur- 
roundings are denied them, because it is prescribed that this their 
earthly life must be hard. One cannot but wonder, as he looks down 
the long row of cells and sees the names of the monks stencilled beside 
the doors, how often death visits the abbey and ordains that a name 
shall be taken from one of these doors and printed in letters larger but 
less enduring upon a cross in the graveyard under the great spire. It 
is an awesome thought ; but, even where the sunlight falls through the 
abbey windows with a happy glow on spotless paint and whitewashed 
walls, one cannot forget that the idea of death never leaves the Trap- 
pist’s mind. Dreadful as this may seem to others, it is not so to the 
Trappist, for to him death is but the certain beginning of a happier 
life. 

From the time of the Divine Office in the early morning until the 
day closes with the singing of the Salve Regina in the early evening, 
the abbey thrills with the sound of many holy services. Matins, 
lauds, prime, terce, none, vespers, compline, and the several masses and 
offices of the day are each gone through when the great bell rings out 
its summons from the spire. The large cruciform chapel, lighted now 
by candles and great lamps, now by the light of day, knows a religious 
devotion as constant, it may be, as can be found the world over. The 
chapel is of the pointed Gothic style, and, like all else within the 
abbey, is very plain. The floor is stained a dark brown, as is all the 
wood-work except the window-frames ; they, with the walls and ceil- 
ing, are painted white. No gold or gilt is visible in any part of the 
church. Against the two pillars of the dome that face the choir-stalls 
at the intersection of the nave and transept are placed on the one side 
a figure of Our Lady of Lourdes and on the other one of St. Joseph. 
The choir-stalls are simple in design, but of a massiveness that pleases 
the eye. The choir consists only of the monks whose education enables 
them to recite the Latin offices. The visitor, if he be but a layman, 
may see them in their white robes come in or go out of a small door 
to the right, as he sits in the gallery at the lower end of the chapel. 
This gallery is reached only by a very narrow winding stairway from 
the floor of the adjoining chapel, which is devoted to services for the 
residents of the neighborhood. A close wooden partition, reaching 
neither to the floor nor to the ceiling, extends across the chapel before 
the gallery at such an elevation as to hide the monks at their devotions, 
and he in the gallery can only hear, not see. Many of the services are 
sung, not recited, and the voices, now singly, now in chorus, rise and 
fall unaccompanied by an organ or other instrument. How much of 


IN THE ABBEY OF GETHSEMANE. 


719 


the interest one feels in the services of Gethsemane is due to the merit 
of the voices and how much to the unusual character of the hearer^s 
surroundings, one cannot say, but certain it is that the music of those 
Trappist priests, isolated from the world and living almost such a life 
as was lived by St. Robert many hundred years ago, impresses itself 
strongly upon the listener. 

The fathers of Gethsemane have seen a great material growth in 
their institution since the 20th day of December, 1848, when, after 
nearly two months of travel from the French abbey of La Meilleraye, 
those who established the abbey of Gethsemane first saw their future 
home. The building they then occupied was of wood, and was erected 
by the Sisters of Loretto as an academy. The location of this early 
abbey is now marked only by a half-filled excavation and the ruins of 
a chimney. But a few years passed before the wooden building gave 
place to the present structure, with its front of one hundred and ninety 
feet and its depth of two hundred and eighty. Then the large stable, 
the grist-mill, the saw-mill, and the various outbuildings of the mon- 
astery were erected. Cornfields, orchards, vineyards, vegetable gardens, 
and flower-beds were planted as circumstances necessitated or permitted. 
At present the flower-beds of former years receive slight attention ; 
the tan-bark walks and the other walks of gravel give evidence of 
scanty care ; even the inner court-yard, bounded on all sides by the 
rough masonry of the abbey building and with the symbolical well in 
its centre to which the great water-pipes lead from the roof, is well- 
nigh a wilderness. A little landscape-gardening might make it most 
beautiful. In its almost subtropical wildness it is roughly beautiful 
now, as the redbirds, orioles, and here and there a mocking-bird hover 
in the dense growth of flowers and shrubs and trees. But all this is 
nothing to the Trappist. He scorns beauty for its own sake. To him 
it is one of the seductions of the world, — a thing to be shunned if he 
would walk unerringly the path to heaven. 

At the northwest corner of the abbey, under the windows of the 
chapel, lies the graveyard. It is not large, but in it sixty-six of the 
order rest in a sleep that is not broken by the monastery bell. The 
graves are in rows, covered thick with myrtle, and at the head of each 
is a black cross. On each cross has been stencilled the name of the 
monk who lies below, together with the dates of his birth and death ; 
but most of the letters are washed away and the crosses rear their heads 
unmarked by an inscription. The names once upon them were not 
those by which the monks were known in the world : the Trappist 
leaves at the abbey gate the name his parents gave him, and ever after 
answers only to that taken in religion. After each burial a new grave 
is partly dug beside the last, as a warning to those remaining that life 
is uncertain and death inevitable. The graveyard is possibly the most 
solemn portion of the abbey. One may stand under the wall that 
bounds its western side and fancy he can see the procession of white- 
cowled fathers and brown-cowled brothers bearing to the grave one of 
their number who has been called from them. One may imagine the 
venerable abbot reading the service for the dead, as the body, enclosed 
by no coffin and with no shroud but the garments of the order, is 


720 


THE FIDDLE TOLD. 


lowered into its last resting-place under the shadow of the great white 
spire that raises to the sky the cross of Christ. 

Since the small hours of the afternoon I had wandered through the 
fields that lie about the abbey, and it was late when I again entered 
the building. The evening meal had been cleared away, but a lay 
brother brought me a supper of corn bread, meal, milk, bread and 
butter, and coffee, and I ate it alone in the dining-room. At eight 
o’clock the monks go to bed, and it was within half an hour of that 
time when I went out into the court-yard for a last cigar before retiring. 
In the west the clouds were bright with many colors. As night fell, 
the tints faded, until at last the deep gray-blue was broken only by a 
dash of red at the horizon. Then that too was lost. As the sky 
darkened, the moon rose slowly, casting the shadows of the great trees 
from building to building and from wall to wall. Priests traversed 
the court, looking questioningly at my cigar. Then they too disap- 
peared. The abbey was silent, save only for the sound of a cough 
that now and then came through a window. In the porter’s lodge there 
was no movement. Even the birds had gone to rest, and as I climbed 
the stairway to my room I walked on tiptoe, lest the sound of my 
footsteps might awaken echoes which at that hour should not be 
audible. On the gravel walk below I heard the porter’s tread as he 
passed to close the outer door. The monastery bell sounded the end of 
the day, and in the silence of its little valley the abbey of Gethsemane 
rested for the night. 

Allan Hendricks. 


THE FIDDLE TOLD. 

I T was the close of a day in the early part of December. 

The Governor sat alone in his private office. His clerk had just 
left him. 

The Christmas season was a busy and responsible one with him, 
for he chose that time to investigate thoroughly the criminal records 
of the State and pardon such prisoners as good conduct or extenuating 
circumstances placed within the pale of executive clemency. 

If questioned as to his selection of the holiday season for the exer- 
cise of the benign prerogative,” he was wont to answer, “ Oh, I may 
be helping to turn the tide in the soul of some Paul, and I have a 
fancy to do it when peace and good will are most likely to be at the 
flood : that is all.” 

Whether this were all, and it were not in response to some deeper 
sentiment, those who knew him best alone could say. 

To-night, as he looked at the piles of mail-matter on his desk, yet 
to be disposed of, he pushed back his chair with a smothered groan, 
and started to the door, moved by a wild impulse to get outside and 
turn the key on it all. 

An obstruction in his path caused him to stumble, and he saw a 


THE FIDDLE TOLD. 721 

curious-looking bundle in brown paper, clumsily tied with a coarse 
twine string, lying on the floor at his feet. 

He remembered his clerk’s having mentioned a package from the 
State prison, — this must be it, — and pushed it impatiently to one side ; 
but as he did so something in the coffin-shaped outlines made him 
stoop and tear away a part of the cover. 

He found, to his amazement, a violin, and appended to it a soiled 
pencil-written note, evidently an appeal of some kind. 

Curiosity conquered fatigue. He had handled many and various 
petitions, but never one in shape like this. 

Detaching the note from its fastenings, he crossed the room to the 
window, and, by the waning light of the winter’s day, deciphered the 
following illiterate text : 

To the Guvner — 

“ They tel me thet yer Hart gits tender to Prisners at chrismus 
time and you listens to what they has to say. Ive ben Hear 20 years 
fer killin a man and Ive ben Sorry evry day sence I done it. I was 
a hot headed Boy uv 22 and the man called pap a Liar and sed things 
agin mam. I couldnt noways stand thet and I nocked him down, he 
was a pale sickly complected tender foot and he never got up agin. I 
never ment to kill him but my fist was hevy and sum mad thing inside 
uv me sicked me on. they never giv me no sort uv a Trial but jes 
put me in Hear fer Life, his Folks was rich and mine was pore and 
couldnt pay no lawyer, pap is gone blind and mam is old and they 
aint got nobody to look after em but Joseel. Joseel is the gal thet 
was goin to marry me. she left her home when they sent me Hear 
and went to look after the old Folks sames they was hern, ef I could 
git back to Joseel and the old Folks and the mountins Ide never lif 
my han agin no man agen ceptin twas to help him so help me God. 

They tel me as how you kin make a Fiddle talk til the childern 
puts down their Playthings and follers yer. Guvner I sends you mine 
along uv this what I made when I was a Boy back in the mountins, 
the sames I koted my gal with and played fer mam and pap round the 
fire Sunday evnins. shes aged along with me but shes kep her voice 
sweet and stiddy yit. 

‘‘ Take her Guvner and set down by yourself in the still uv the 
evnin and let her talk to you fer me. I aint afeerd shell fergit nuthin, 
the old Home on the side uv the mountin and mam and pap and Joseel 
a settin thar and waitin these 20 years fer the Boy they wouldnt let 
go their holt uv nor quit luvin no matter what he did. No shell not 
fergit nuthin. she’s too much like them Wimmen shell be tellin you 
about, seems like she knows things as well as I do. praps cause shes 
ben lyin agin my Hart so long, and if she cant tel you nuthin Giiv- 
ner let her talk to yer Wife. Its about Wimmen shell tel you mostly. 
Wimmen and Sorrer. And Wimmen is quickern men to understan 
them things. 

Thats all. its tuk me 3 weeks to rite this letter. Good by. God 
go with the old Fiddle and help her tel it strate. 

Abner Hill.” 


VoL. LVII.— 46 


722 


THE FIDDLE TOLD. 


When the Governor turned away from the window there was a 
look on his face that few had ever seen there except his wife. 

He lifted the violin carefully from the floor, tore away its wrap- 
pings, and looked at it long and curiously. 

It was roughly made of native pine and maple, and varnished with 
the home-made varnish of the mountains, but the strings gave back 
the true viol tone, clear and ringing. 

Bringing his chair closer to the grate, he placed the instrument in 
position, drew the bow, and there “ in the still of the evening let her 
talk to him.” 

He was a mountain boy himself, and as the first, soft notes fell on 
the air, plaintive and piercing like the cry of the whippoorwill in early 
spring, he felt the youth stir in him, and heard again the far call of 
the hills. 

He saw the log cabin high up against the side of the mountain, 
where the laurel and the sumach grew and the ash made bright the 
scene with its dark red fruit ; where the breeze came laden with the 
odor of pine from the forest, and the birds touched the highest notes 
in their shrill treble. 

He saw the boy with his sturdy limbs, his bold blue eyes, and 
his waving hair, barefoot and scantily clad, searching for the earliest 
berries in summer and the first nuts in the fall, — free, joyous, innocent, 
happy. 

He followed him in the^Gong, long thoughts” of a lad across the 
distant crest of the DeviPs Backbone,” and wove with him mystic 
dramas amid the shades of the haunted ravine. 

He sat with him at the feet of the mountain lass, and listened 
while he poured the crude poetry of his awakened soul into the 
sensitive instrument which alone could interpret the mystery within 
him. 

He stood beside him and watched the blazing pine knots roar up 
the cabin chimney, while the old folks in the corner looked at each 
other across the boy, with that surreptitious tenderness of the eyes 
which takes the place, in those grown gray, and sure of each other, 
of the more open demonstration. 

He saw the whole twenty-two years of clean, humble living; the 
unaspiring, pastoral life of the Southern mountaineer, companioned of 
Nature ; simple, fearless, brave ; scornful of the false, reverent of the 
true ; tender to weakness, fierce to wrong ; and, alas ! uncontrolled as 
the elements around him ; crushing, in some mad output of strength, 
the obstacle in his way, to stand afterwards in awful recoil before the 
unknown potentialities of his own organism. 

Full and swelling were the strains that issued from the throat 
of the violin as it told this idyl of the hills : passionate harmonies 
pulsating like the overcharged heart; long, tender, yearning notes; 
sweet, caressing andantes ; the very spirit of Love in the guise of 
Sound. 

But now the music changes. Youth’s glad symphony is lost in 
the wild major chords of passion. Note dashes against note like 
hail against a pane. All the tumult of the mountains, the forest, the 


THE FIDDLE TOLD. 723 

roaring stream when storms rive the heavens, is sounded in that mad 
chromatic ascending to its climax. 

All of Nature’s after-penance breathes in the sighing minor of the 
descending scale. Surely that was a human sob that rang through 
the room; a fellow-mortal’s burst of sympathy. No, it was just the 
old fiddle, who knew things ’cause she’d been lyin’ so long ag’in’ his 
heart.” 

And now from out her quivering strings she sends forth a melody 
so divinely pure, so immeasurably sweet, the coldest ear must open to 
greet it. 

In it are the prayers of mothers, the tears of wives, the sobs 
of little children, — all of unlauguaged pain, all of unlanguaged love. 

It is the echo of that song which beats forever against the throne 
of God, in tender, tireless cadence, — the united voices of many women 
pleading for the souls of men. 

The violin slips from the Governor’s hands, and his head sinks 
upon his breast. 

The old fiddle has told her story straight.” 

When witnesses were found who corroborated the statements of the 
prisoner, and jail wardens certified to twenty years of exemplary be- 
havior inside the prison walls, the Governor sent for Abner Hill to be 
brought to his private office. 

The day he expected him he placed the violin in a conspicuous 
position on the desk. 

There was ushered into his presence a tall, angular man with the 
worn face and stooping shoulders of threescore years; hair scanty, 
muscles flabby, eyes dull ; nothing to bespeak youth but the faint red 
that crept into his sunken cheek when the servant announced his name. 
A single stroke of sin, and its after-writing on the brain, had done the 
work of twice twenty years. 

He stood inside the door with downcast eyes and nervous, fluttering 
hands. 

The Governor called his name, and something in the kindly accents 
gave him courage to look up. 

Something else in the homely, humorous face that no man ever 
looked into without loving gave him courage to speak ; and his eye 
caught sight of the violin. 

Beaching a trembling hand out to his dumb, friend as though for 
confidence, he whispered, hoarsely, — 

Guvner, what did she tell you fer me ? What did my old fiddle 
tell you?” 

The Governor waited for a moment, perhaps to steady his voice ; 
then, laying both hands on the shoulders of the other, his eyes 
reading with a father’s tenderness the piteous, expectant face, he 
said, — 

Abner, she says — the old fiddle says — that you can go back to the 
mountains. And, my man, may God go with you !” 

The convict stood for a moment like one struck dumb, a womanish 
pallor overspreading his cheek ; then, with a cry which his listener 


724 


A LOV£:-SONO. 


never forgot, he threw his arms around his liberator, and sobbed like a 
heart-broken child. 

And the Governor was not ashamed to admit that something tight- 
ened in his throat and broke out at his eyes too. 

Abm C. Franklin. 


A ZOVE-SOJVG. 

L ove, the moon is overhead, 

All the misty woods are still ; 
What was that my lady said ? — 

“ I will never wed until 
Some great hero that I meet 
Sueth humbly at my feet.” 
Well-a-day ! Well-a-day ! 

She would surely tell me nay ; 

I will wait some other day. 

Once again the moon is new, — 

Like a broken band of gold ; 
New or old, my heart is true, 

But my lady seemeth cold. 

When the mellow planets shine. 
Shall I ask her to be mine ? 

Well-a day ! Well-a-day ! 

What if she should tell me nay? 
I will wait another day. 

Sooth I think she’ll drive me mad ; 

Yet I thought, when passing by, 
That her blossom-face was sad, 

And a tear was in her eye. 

Can it be if I should sue 
I should find her heart was true? 
Well-a-day! Well-a-day! 

What if she should tell me nay ? 
I will wait another day. 

Not a shred of moon above. 

And of starlight there was none. 
But I met my lady-love. 

And I wooed her, and I won. 
Shyly, sweetly, did she own 
That she cared for me alone. 
Well-a-day ! Well-a-day ! 

Yet she might have told me nay 
Had I asked her yesterday. 


Hattie Whitney. 


AN OVERLOOKED POET. 


725 


AN OVERLOOKED POET. 

J OSEPH FAWCETT was ‘‘a dissenting minister at Walthamstow, 
afterwards a farmer.’^ Pursuits perhaps not strictly harmonious 
with that of the Muses : yet the garden at Walthamstow produced very 
tolerable flowers and fruits, with no more than a reasonable proportion 
of weeds. 

It is easy to reconstruct the man from his remains. Much refine- 
ment, and no lack of strength ; purity, sincerity, kindliness ; a humani- 
tarian in both senses, and eminently in the better sense ; all the more 
of a moralist for being little of a theologian ; democrat, as became a 
free-thinking nonconformist; lover of his kind, and worshipper of 
Nature. No great genius, doubtless, or we should have heard of him 
before this ; but something beyond a mere trimmer of smooth verses, — 
a man worth making acquaintance with, even in our crowded age and 
across a century. 

A thoughtful and humane radical, dropped into the England of that 
era, was not likely to be over-cheerful. His experience was too much 
for his native optimism ; and thus most of what he wrote is a protest, 
at times gentle, at times vehement, — now political, and then abstract, — 
against the facts he found about him, the then extant order of ideas 
and things. He has kept himself as near as might be outside of pulpit 
ruts; yet his habituated instincts prefer the ^‘glittering generalities” to 
which his conscience will not let him confine himself. Here is one of 
his Elegies, “Written on New Year’s Day.” 

Ye gladsome bells, how misapplied your peal ! 

A day like this requires a solemn chime. 

Infatuate mortals, why, with sportive heel. 

Dance ye exulting o’er the grave of Time ? 

Is he your foe, that thus ye ring his knell ? 

That festive notes announce his awful flight ? 

Tire ye of day, that sounds of triumph tell 

How swift the wing that wafts your last, long night? 

While circling years o’er thoughtless myriads roll. 

Long folly biit to lend, and length of shame. 

Ye metal tongues, swing slow with mournful toll, 

Virtue’s departed seasons to proclaim ! 

Sons of Delay I whose duties, yet undone. 

Await, from year to year, your hand in vain. 

Drown, drown that brazen music with a groan I 
The years ye lost shall ne’er be yours again. 

In this vein of severe moralizing he gives us plenty, usually with a 
sharper point than the above. As in a “ War Elegy,” apropos of the 
murder of a child by its starving mother : 

When Surfeit swells while wasting thousands die. 

When Kiot roars amidst surrounding groans, 


726 


AN OVERLOOKED POET. 


Whence springs the patience of the quiet sky ? 
What keeps ye silent, ye unruffled stones? 


This last allusion is almost (in substance only, not in spirit or in 
style) Swinburnian. It seems to anticipate the 


“ sacred head, the desecrate,” 


of the 


“ slain and spent and sacrificed 
People, the gray-grown speechless Christ.” 

Again, over the body of a criminal : 


O iron state of rude mankind ! 

Thou human thing, of man accurst. 

What virtues would have warmed thy mind, 
Had scenes of kindlier infiuence nurst ! 

Society’s deserted child ! 

From her neglect thine errors flowed: 

She left thine heart untrained and wild, 

Nor paid the mother’s cares she owed. 

Heedless within thee to instil 
Of just and right perceptions clear. 

She but proclaimed her lordly will. 

And called no passion forth but fear. 


He was a poet of Nature no less than of Humanity ; not a cata- 
loguer of scenery, a lengthily minute describer of trees and waterfalls, 
but a true lover of Nature, who viewed everything from that stand- 
point. Whatever was accordant with her, included in her proper 
scheme, he loved, — trees and waterfalls, animals and men. Whatever 
seemed to him against her — wars, and oppressive governments, and 
cruelty and corruption of every sort — he hated, as will be seen, for that 
reason. He kept a mind open to all her sweet influences, and found 
or fancied that he could get at God best in that way, — if he had not 
ceased to care about God, which seems uncertain. He liked to sit in 
his garden, after he had got rid of his probably troublesome parish, 
and meditate upon things in general — for he had read the classics, and 
seen the world sufficiently — while he watched the growing grass and 
heard the birds sing. He sat there to some purpose, as may appear 
from the following, To a Robin, whose nest had been taken out of 
the author’s garden, where it had long been accustomed to build.” 


Spare thy reproach, thou more than tongue. 
That little, lively eye ! 

It was not I that stole thy young ; 

Indeed it was not I. 

With pleasure equal to thine own 
I’ve watched thy tender brood. 

And marked how fondly thou hast flown 
To bear them daily food. 

Nor e’en than thine with less delight 
I looked and longed to see 


AN OVERLOOKED POET. 


727 


The first attempts of infant flight, 

With patience taught by thee. 

And now that restless thou dost rove, 

And with sad note repine. 

Think not, lorn mourner, that I prove 
A pang less keen than thine. 

Ah, base were he whose hand could stain 
Fair hospitality 

With act so foul as thus to pain 
A harmless guest like thee. 

Pursue me not from spray to spray : 

How shall I teach my tongue 
Some sound that may to thee convey, 

I did not do the wrong? 

O that I knew, sweet innocent, 

The language of thy kind. 

Or could some lucid sign invent, 

Fitting thy feeble mind ! 

This spot indignant do not quit ; 

Thy confidence replace ; 

And here with generous trust commit. 

Once more, thy tender race. 

For here thy young have oft before 
Securely spread the wing : 

O grant my shades one trial more. 

Here pass one other spring. 

Meanwhile this comfort I will take ; 

Not long thy woes shall last ; 

All hearts but man’s soon cease to ache : 

Thy griefs shall soon be past. 

For him whose hand hath broke thy rest. 

Be this his curse through life : 

A mind by the mild muse unblest, 

Base care and vulgar strife. 

The whole of this piece is very characteristic of our author, but 
especially its close. The curse, which would be so slight a thing to 
him on whom it is invoked, is something terrible from the stand-point 
of its invoker. To him the mild muse’s blessings are the best elements, 
the redeeming features, of an otherwise unprofitable existence. Take 
these away, and there remains the frightful fate of souls unenlightened 
and unredeemed, — the common lot, indeed, but one of woe and death, 
all the worse if unconscious, to which no savior can come, the mild 
muse” being banished forever : “ base care and vulgar strife.” The 
hottest indignation of a gentle spirit rises against the oppressor of 
helpless innocence : he can wish his worst enemy no heavier doom than 
this, safe to fulfil itself upon the spoiler of the nest. 

Fawcett had a passion for the nightingale, and sounded her praises 
thus : 

The soul of song mine ear receives ! 

Sure, the sweet deity of sound 
To the still grove a lesson gives. 

And feathered scholars listen round. 


728 OVERLOOKED POET. 

And elsewhere, in what he calls a Sonnet; 


No pause of joy thy lover, Nature, knows : 

Thy varying scenes but change his pure delight. 

To his pleased ear successive music flows ; 

Successive beauty smiles to bless his sight. 

Now the mute lark’s triumphant song is o’er. 

Whose airy notes exulting climb the skies ; 

Now the grove’s sleeping choristers no more 
Pour forth their gladsome social melodies ; 

’Tis sweet to hear, O lonely bird of woe. 

Melodious follower of the song of day. 

Thy clear mellifluous lamentation flow. 

The long-drawn sorrow of thy silver lay. 

Now the lorn eye hath lost the solar beam. 

All hail, thou paler lamp ! ’tis sweet to mark 
Thy shattered radiance quivering in the stream. 

And thy meek, tender light o’erflow the dark. 

Ah, ne’er for costly pleasures will I pine, 

While Nature’s unbought bliss and chaste delights are mine. 

It is not likely that Matthew Arnold ever saw this unfamiliar 
volume, but some lines here might almost have suggested his exquisite 
‘‘ Philomela.” 

He does not like what he supposed to be the prevalent view of a 
Future Existence : 

No dormant state I hail, of flat repose, 

Where pant no ardors, where no action glows ; 

No pool of standing life that always sleeps. 

O’er whose still sea no breeze of spirit sweeps ; 

No scene, as priests describe the bliss above, 

Of heavy calmness and of slumbering love ; 

Where useless saints on easy thrones recline, 

And tune their idle wires to songs divine, 

Relaxed in holy sloth, and piously supine. 

He evidently did not approve good Bishop Ken’s proposal to 
incessant sing, and never tire.” But he has his own notions on this 
subject, and evolves a faith from his spiritual instincts. In an Elegy 
on the Loss of Friends” he concludes that 

they cannot be extinct : 

Such sacred essence ne’er can shrink to nought: 

Who boasts the power on moral themes to think 
O’er moral themes shall roll immortal thought. 

To this fair hope my trusting bosom clings ; 

Nought from its hold shall wrench my fast belief. 

And in the next Elegy, Mortality and Hope,” he pursues a familiar 
argument with pathetic earnestness : 

Ye short-lived flowers, though swift ye pass away. 

Compassion weeps not o’er your withering state : 

Ye fade, but all unconscious of decay ; 

Ye fall, but fear not, as ye drop, your fate. 


AN OVERLOOKED POET. 


729 


Nor yet, ye wildly tuneful, plumy throng. 

Plains my sad lay o’er your mortality : 

Though Death’s black hour so soon must end your song. 
Careless ye sing, nor know that hour is nigh. 

’Tis man alone demands the Muse’s sigh ; 

O’er man her pity sheds its tenderest shower : 

Of all the countless tribes that round him die, 

The only prophet of his final hour ! 

In each shrunk leaf he sees the flower display. 

Each falling sun that sinks to ocean’s bed, 

He notes how swift his bloom shall fade away. 

He marks how low his glory shall be laid. 

To him who thus to life’s approaching close 
Is doomed his mournful prospect to extend. 

Ah, sure, in justice, equal Nature owes 
A life where foresight shall descry no end. 

Can this short span of being be his all ? 

Must minds, whose wishes shoot beyond the tomb, 

Dash their bruised frames againat confinement’s wall. 

And droop, the prisoners of so scant a room ? 

Say, must I toil, year following year, to slay. 

In all their coarser or their subtler forms. 

The various follies on my peace that prey. 

Only at length to fall the prey of worms ? 

When love of knowledge most intense shall glow. 

When most I value Reason’s precious light. 

Then must I cease, forever cease, to know? 

Then, Reason’s lamp go out in endless night? 

The noblest want which Nature knows to raise. 

Say, shall she leave alone without its food ? 

Leave, while each lower thirst her care allays. 

Unslaked the lofty wish for boundless good? 

Shall souls, equipped with wondrous powers to fly 
Through the vast tracts of Truth’s and Virtue’s reign. 

Be ne’er allowed to sail this glorious sky. 

Caged in this narrow life, and winged in vain ? 

Cease, cease, my song, to mourn the lot of man ; 

Revoke the murmur, and recall the tear. 

It cannot be, that Nature’s faultless plan 
To him alone denies a suited sphere. 

The eagle pinions of this active mind. 

Though now a little space enclose their flights. 

At length the firmament they ask shall find, 

And soar, without control, celestial heights. 

I have abridged this considerably, and not improved it thereby. 
But life is short, and quotations may be too long. Perhaps he had in 
mind the splendid passage of Marcus Aurelius, xii. 5. Compare this 
with the last verse but one above : How can it be, that the gods, 
having arranged all things well and benevolently for men, have neg- 
lected this alone,’^ etc. 


730 


AN OVERLOOKED POET. 


These elegies of our author seem to deserve more attention than they 
have received. . There are ten of them, at the beginning of his book 
(1798). The first deplores ‘‘The Fate of Sensibility,^’ by which he 
means the poetic temperament. This contains, he says, the largest 
capabilities of bliss and woe. It owns the universe : for it suns rise and 
set, linnets sing, and thunder rolls ; for it Homer sang and heroes 
died. If it is good, it makes more out of Virtue than ordinary people 
can ; if as successful as it ought to be in its love-affairs, 

Then shalt thou throw around the earth thine eye, 

Nor aught that wakes thy faintest envy see; 

But, pitying all beneath this ample sky. 

Deem the wide world of bliss comprest in thee. 

But, on the other hand, it is not apt to do well in business ; and 
unless somebody kindly provides it with a modicum of the beggarly 
elements, it may come to grief. 

The Muses’ sons no knee to Mammon bend ; 

No smiles from Mammon bless the Muses’ train. 

’Tis seldom Fortune’s rays with Fancy’s blend : 

111 suit the arts of song with arts of gain. 

And that is bad, for it is proud, and cannot beg : 

No hand of thine, proud sufferer, e’er shall try 

Want’s faint and fearful knock at Grandeur’s door. 

Nor only this ; it is liable to be unkindly treated : 

Thy social tenderness, thy social truth. 

Ah, who from social agonies shall guard ? 

And if it should be so unlucky as to misplace its young affections, 
that is the worst yet ; for to it 

Love has no mean — ’tis madness, or ’tis heaven. 

The best advice he can give it in view of these dreadful possibili- 
ties is, under no circumstances to commit suicide. Some justification 
for this caution may be found in his next subject, “ The Calamities of 
Love.” 

There was Mr. Hackman, who killed one faithless fair, and Major 
Andre, “ whose bark the vast Atlantic ploughed” to seek recovery or 
escape from the wound inflicted by another. The poet, being perhaps 
in sympathy with our side of the Revolutionary War, is not satisfied 
with the way in which Andr4 won his death : 

Too soon he falls : but not as fall the brave. 

Oblivious darkness, blot the inglorious day I 

Sad Pity sits and weeps upon his grave. 

While blushing Honor turns his eye away. 

In two more elegies we have similar topics. Here is “ Disappointed 
Love,” whose victim took it very hard indeed ; 


AN OVERLOOKED POET. 


731 


’Twas not in anxious friendship’s soothing aid, 

’Twas not in potent medicine’s lenient art, 

Of fixt despair to raise the drooping head. 

To heal the bruises of a wounded heart. 

Loathing his food, and longing for his grave. 

He nursed the dreadful appetite of death. 

In this course he cannot be wholly excused, though he had provoca- 
tions. It was an affair of long standing : the lady had been the 
fairy mistress of his baby breast.” But her parents induced her to 
marry a wealthier suitor ; which was very wrong in them, and all 
parties came to regret it. It was, in fact, no better than a pagan 
sacrifice, and affords an awful warning to the worldly-minded : 

Inhuman fathers ! who to Hymen’s fane 
The lovely victims of your avarice lead ; 

Decked by your mocking hands with trappings vain. 

To writhe in ribbands, and in pomp to bleed. 

Then, by an example of ‘‘ The Mistaken Fair,” young ladies are 
exhorted to 


Hear who his tale with glowing plainness frames. 

With speechless breaks and unembellished phrase; 

Or whose soft sighs betray his hidden flames. 

And eyes in silence eloquently gaze. 

That is probably good advice to this day, if they would only heed it. 

The others are less mawkish. There is one on “ Solitude ;” one on 
“ The Miseries of a Guilty Mind,” shown in the owner of a fine estate, 
of which the spectator had more enjoyment than he ; and one On 
Revisiting the Scenes of Early Life.” In this he invokes his youth- 
ful enthusiasms : 

Give me again in all men to confide ; 

Again suspicion from my breast be driven ! 

Still would I view my kind with generous pride, 

And deem the word of man the word of Heaven. 

But he wisely falls back on solider moral possessions ; 

Come, Virtue, when all other joys retreat. 

Still constant found ! And smiling Friendship, come ! 

And beauteous Truth I — now gaudier beams have set. 

Gild, with your mild and lunar rays, my gloom. 

But in the course of this elegy he intimates, to our surprise, a low 
view of the tender passion : 

Resume, blest Lunacy, thy pleasing sway ! 

and recalls 

Those dear, delirious, agitated days. 

This is surely unworthy of a poet who has had so much that was 
pathetic and improving to say on the subject. 


732 


AN OVERLOOKED POET. 


Fawcett^s elegies (including another series yet to be mentioned) 
are the most interesting of his poems. From a long piece headed 
‘‘ Change/^ a few lines on Dean Swift’s madness may be cited : 

Behold the bard, the scholar, and the sage, 

A stock in torpor, or a beast in rage ! 

Who shone by turns in Truth’s and Fancy’s school, 

A fury burns, or dies into a fool. 

Is that the deep discerner, whose swift thought 
Elusive Truth with quickest seizure caught. 

Whose idiot eyes without distinction roll, 

Unsearching fix, nor dart one ray of soul? 

Our author was in France in 1792, was present at the ceremonies 
of July 14, and hailed the Revolution with an Ode, some of whose 
sentiments read rather queerly in the light of subsequent events : 

Immortal glory mark the splendid hour 
That proved o’er Vice almighty Virtue’s power ! 
****** 

Hail then, virtuous convocation, 

Wisely met, illumined nation ! 

He is careful to remind us of the date of this efiPusion, and to say that 
his approval does not extend to any of the transactions by which the 
cause of liberty in France was afterwards disgraced.” He visits the 
gardens at Versailles, and opines that 

Imperial might hath toiled, with vast expense. 

To give the tortured sight complete offence ; 

To bid a labored blank of grace appear. 

Superbly pleasureless, and trimly drear. 
***** 

I hear the Genius moan, as round I rove. 

Of each methodically wounded grove ; 

And to the peasant’s wail, and prisoner’s sigh. 

The bleeding Dryad joins her plaining cry. 
***** 

Oppressive Art erects her iron throne, 

And injured Nature mourns her freedom gone. 

Thence he goes to the gardens of Ermenonville, which he likes much 
better, and wastes some admiring regrets over the tomb of Rousseau, 
of all the world the friend and fugitive.” 

His satire called “ The Art of Poetry, according to the Latest Im- 
provements,” had appeared prior to 1798. The object of verse-making, 
according to this, is Faults to escape, not beauties to attain.” Brief 
extracts will suffice : 

O sing not thou, in animated lays. 

Immortal Truth’s or radiant Virtue’s praise ! 

Such ardent splendors dart a scorching ray. 

To tender sight intolerable day. 


AN OVERLOOKED POET. 


733 


With clear description let the laboring strain 
Some curious engine curiously explain. 
****** 

Sweep with a daring hand the sounding string, 

And the Mechanic Powers sublimely sing I 
The Wheel and Axis tunefully display ; 

Balance the Lever in the steady lay ; 

Soaring to heights no muse before e’er flew, 

Paint the retentive vigor of the Screw ; 

The obscurer workings of the Wedge rehearse. 

And bid the Pulley lift its weights in verse I 

(This was apropos of Botanic Gardens” and the like.) 

In his blest pages countless charms conspire. 

Whose title-page contains that charm, Esquire! 

But if, by kings enriched, illustrious blood 
Roll through the man of rhyme its noble flood. 

Heavens 1 in the verse what matchless beauty glows. 

What fancy flashes, and what music flows ! 

Fawcett belonged in spirit to the Peace Society, and laid most stress 
upon his anti-war verses ; though in this the reader will hardly agree 
with him. By these he is chiefly ambitious to be distinguished as a 
poet.” His longest production, The Art of War,” which had been 
previously published, was revised and added to his other poems in 
1798, under the title Civilized War.” Blank verse, in the hands of 
minor bards, is usually very blank ; and this is further oppressed by 
an earnestness which has the upper hand not only of its art, but of the 
author’s usual moderation and fairness. This will do for a sample : 

The coward kills, himself with terror dead ; 

A trembling hero, made by fear to dare. 

Afraid to fight, yet more afraid to fly. 

The prisoner of his post compelled he stands ; 

Now still, save in his trembling joints; now moves, 

A meek machine obedient to command: 

Until at length mechanic confidence 
From frequent misses of the levelled death 
Gradual he draws ; and from the tumult round him 
Catches a wildness, that all thought at once 
And terror swallows in its giddy whirl. 

It closes with an apostrophe : 

How long shall it be thus ? — Say, Reason, say. 

When shall thy long minority expire? 

When shall thy dilatory kingdom come? 

Haste, royal infant, to thy manhood spring I 
' Almighty, when mature, to rule mankind. 

Weak are the outward checks, that would supply 
Thy bridle’s space within the secret heart. 

Thine is the majesty; the victory thine. 

For thee reserved, o’er all the wrongs of life. 

* * * * To thee 

All might belongs : leap to thy ripened years ! 

Mount thine immortal throne, and sway the world ! 


734 


AN OVERLOOKED POET. 


The substance of this was afterwards distributed into eleven War 
Elegies,” which appeared in 1801, three years before Fawcett^s death. 
His prime seems already somewhat past, for these are not equal to the 
best of his former pieces. But his principles and feelings are un- 
changed. His Deity has still two incarnations, of nearly or quite equal 
value, — Humanity and Nature ; the poet owns the same loyal rever- 
ence for both, and starts with the same indignant horror when either 
the smiling landscape or the breathing form is marred. Years before 
he had written thus on a murderer hung in chains in a retired country 
place : 

Ye who direct the social state, 

Which tauntingly ye civil call, 

Who whip the crimes yourselves create, 

Yourselves most criminal of all : 

Irreverent of life’s sacred flame. 

Who, when a wretch your law has broke, 

Without one effort to reclaim. 

Reprove by stern destruction’s stroke : 

Cannot the city’s ample room 
Your polity’s dark frowns confine, 

That thus they spread their angry gloom 
Where loveliest Nature smiles benign? 

And fail thy shades, sweet Solitude, 

From social ills to screen my view? 

Here must the odious forms intrude ? 

Hither my tortured eye pursue ? 

He had imagined (improbably enough) that death received added 
bitterness to the criminal from the charms of the scene on which he 
looked his last : 


The first offender thus his eye 
O’er Eden’s forfeit beauties threw. 

And, heaving sorrow’s deepest sigh. 

Breathed to his bowers a long adieu. 

So now (in the War Elegies”) to heighten, by doubling, the catas- 
trophe, he paints a lovely scene, presently to be deformed by human 
rage ; 

Ah, what though Nature kindly smile on all ? 

Man stands between, and flings on all his shade ! 

Regardless of the teachings of sky and meadow, blind to the mementos 
of peace and love around them, the “ liveried ruffians meet :” 

They come to rend the air with horrid roar. 

To hush the warbling grove’s melodious lay. 

Pollute the earth’s fresh green with hideous gore. 

And with black smoke soil the clear blue of day ! 

That, you see, is the tragedy of it. It is too bad that the grass should 
be trampled down ; and dead men certainly do not improve a land- 
scape. They might have found a less romantic spot to kill each other 


AN OVERLOOKED POET. 


735 


in, — say a back street, or a hotel parlor. That they should kill each 
other at all is also bad, — very bad : that adds element number two to 
the tragedy. But to do it in such a pretty place, when they were made 
capable of appreciating its beauty, — there comes in the full horror. It 
must make them feel so much worse to die with all these crushed wild- 
flowers and bloody streams about them. 

By Nature framed to see, with glistening eyes, 

Her faded scene full oft its youth renew, 

They haste to leave these life-alluring skies. 

And bid this garden-orb a wild adieu. 

This is the moral of the first War Elegy, “ The Battle.” The 
second, The Siege,”, is like unto it. The third celebrates “ Famine,” 
and tells us how 

Though Heaven’s prime curse of thistles and of thorns 

Labor revokes from earth’s forgiven fields, 

the revocation is made null by man’s perversity. The next is on 
“ Victory,” and is very severe on the singing of Te Deums and the 
like. Then we have a “ Mourning Maid,” whose lover has been slain, 
and a “ Despairing Mother,” who committed suicide rather than see 
her children starve. Then he welcomes Winter,” because “ it stills 
the wilder tempest of mankind.” 

After The Recruit” comes The Impress,” a doleful illustration 
of a vile practice long happily disused. A rural husband and father, 
going to London to sell his produce, is seized by the press-gang, and 
drowned in a resolute effort to escape. The scene closes with an ap- 
proach to tragic sublimity ; the poet thus, with fine fanaticism, offering 
consolation to the agonized widow : 

While lorn thou weep’st thy loved associate dead. 

Smile on his flight from battle’s guilty plain. 

No brother’s blood his harmless arm hath shed : 

Clean are his hands from glorious murder’s stain. 

In War’s vast world of pangs no single groan 
Arraigns his missile ball or lifted blade ; 

He made no children orphans but his own. 

And thou the only widow he hath made. 

After this is The Soldier’s School,” which represents a good man 
taking to that bad business, and by it roughened, demoralized, de- 
humanized, and unfitted for normal ways of life : at last he comes 
home and turns bandit ; accustomed to blood. 

His pistolled hand shall check the traveller’s way. 

And wage the wars that ask the veil of night. 

And finally The Penitent one who has been a soldier, crippled 
and converted, spends his evenings under a gallows, counting himself 
worse than the felon whose bones hang there, and eating his bread 
with tears. 


736 


AN OVERLOOKED POET. 


It is needless to point out that a good deal of this is somewhat 
overdone. The individual combatant is not exactly a murderer, and, 
bad as all war is, all wars do not quite deserve the wholesale condem- 
nation here poured out upon them. There is something to be said on 
the other side, which our peace-lover in his zeal has overlooked. His 
own instincts might have taught him that much : his own delight in 

the bright page where heroes shine again ! 

Where the great energies of generous souls 
Eepeat their glorious scorn of death and pain. 

As well, surely, show those qualities in a fair fight, as under Diocletian 
or Torquemada. They were men that slew each other ‘^on Troy’s 
bright plains” and all over classic Italy, and they deserve a share, 
however lessened by their less humanitarian light, of whatever blame 
is due to us who did the same thing lately at Gettysburg and all over 
the South, and who are still so eager to go to war with almost anybody 
about almost anything. 

But Fawcett was an honest man and a philanthropist, and may be 
pardoned if in this one instance his intelligence was a little clouded by 
his zeal for humanity and conscience. He says in the preface to these 
War Elegies, ‘^Having thus discharged all the power which the 
Author of my nature has been pleased to bestow upon me at this great 
enemy of mankind, I have at once procured for myself some relief 
from a load of indignation that has long oppressed my soul, and the 
pride to reflect, that my intention, if not my execution, entitles me to 
the gratitude of the public, whether I be destined to reap it or not.” 
Herein he has combined whatever poetical worth I have with that 
moral merit without which that which is simply literary is of com- 
paratively little value.” And of his first poem, ‘‘ The Art of War,” he 
wrote, in 1798, “ However humble a place in the scale of poetical ex- 
cellence his readers shall ultimately allot him, it will ever be a source 
of proud satisfaction to him to remember that the first poetical effort 
he submitted to the public eye was neither a simple attempt to amuse 
the fancy, nor to soothe the heart, but an indignant endeavor to tear 
away the splendid disguise which it has been the business of poets, in 
all nations and ages, to throw over the most odious and deformed of 
all the practices by which the annals of what is called civilized society 
have been disgraced.” 

The mildest fate of those who urge unpopular reforms, or attack 
popular idols and institutions, is to be either pooh-poohed or disre- 
garded. The latter was Fawcett’s lot. The public and the critics 
alike passed him by. Those who must have read him at the time 
died and made no sign” of the fact. He has no place in anthologies, 
in notices of minor poets. Allibone had heard of his sermons, but not 
of his verses. If the present scribe remembers aright, the lines ‘‘ To 
a Robin” were reprinted some years ago, with comments, in a certain 
weekly paper ; but for that, the above extracts will be as new, to all 
intents and purposes, to this generation as if they had never been in 
type before. 


F. M. B. 


BOOKS OF THE MONTH. 


737 


ot .tibf 


The aptitude of Marie Corelli for inventing titles would 
The Mighty Atom, alone bring fame to a novelist of much less power. The 
By Marie Corelli. Sorrows of Satan, — how compact and alluring ! Cameos , — 

how appropriate for a volume of short stories! and now 
The Mighty Atom, — a taking phrase drawn from science to christen a book at 
war with science. 

The story of this last of the Lippincott publications by the queen’s favorite 
author is a slender one, but the moral allusively inculcated is the wisdom of 
holding fast to the old reliable creed and of joining education inseparably with 
religion. The dedication, with its stinging sarcasm, would make a good r'esumt 
of the purpose of the book : “ To those self-styled ‘ Progress! vists,’ who by pre- 
cept and example assist the infamous cause of education without religion, and 
who, by promoting the idea, borrowed from French atheism, of denying to the 
children in board-schools and elsewhere, the knowledge and love of God as the 
true foundation of noble living, are guilty of a worse crime than murder.” 

In illustration of such a text we are introduced to the aristocratic house- 
hold of John Valliscourt, Esquire, of Valliscourt, which consists of that over- 
bearing and learned man, with his little son, fast turning into a prig, and his 
wife, a shadowy but lovely character, also suffering under domestic tyranny. 
The boy has a jolly orthodox tutor who has just been given notice to leave, 
owing to his love of the open air and his opposition to Lionel’s hard tasks. 
Lionel runs away for a whole day between the leaving and coming tutors, and 
makes the acquaintance of the sexton of Combmartin Church, who is busy with 
a grave. As he talks “in grown-up wise” to the old grave-digger the latter’s 
little daughter appears, and Lionel’s young heart is touched. He has been 
taught that death is extinction, that the Bible is fiction, that the Church is a 
remnant of a decayed superstition, and that God is The Mighty Atom. All 
that he beholds and hears from the sexton and his lovely Jessamine contradicts 
this ; and, longing as he does for the things suited to his childhood, his young 
mind is shaken and the spiritual light begins to flow into its darkness. Professor 
Cadman-Gore, his new tutor, is astonished at his searching queries, and finds it 
expedient to suppress a mind which pierces his hard scientific axioms. The 
denouement of the tale is naturally tragic; but in pursuing its course it gathers 
much of tranquil English charm of landscape and lowly life, and makes a 
sterling and alluring plea for the ideal as distinguished from the uninspired real. 
Miss Corelli has done her great reputation, which rests on such striking novels 
as The Sorrows of Satan and Barabbas, no discredit in this her last and one of 
her best books. 


Rarely has The Duchess put forth a more dashing love- 
An Unsatisfactory gtory than An Unsatisfactory Lover, which is iust reprinted 
jjypjjggg by the Lippmcotts from their magazine. It is a tale of 

Irish society, with all the esprit and wit of that green isle, 
combined with the mastery in story-telling which The Duchess wields so gra- 
ciously. Terry O’More is the heroine, christened Terentia by a mother who 
thus perpetuated the name of a devoted spouse. There are two brothers of 
VoL. LVII.— 47 


738 


BOOKS OF THE MONTH. 


Terry, and a rich and stingy old aunt, and a married cousin who determines to 
involve Terry in a match with Mr. Trefusis, — a promising cast of characters, 
who play their parts with the alert action and the urbanity of a Daly comedy. 
Terry has a will of her own, and the plot to marry her has an unforeseen termi- 
nation, but she is happy at last, and so is the delighted reader. It is a treat to 
pick up such a book amid the dearth of literature made to entertain, and Lip- 
pincott’s Series of Select Novels will gain much by including it. 


The Making of 
Pennsylvania. An 
Analysis of the Ele- 
ments of the Popu- 
lation and the For- 
mative Influences 
that created One of 
the Greatest of the 
American States. 
By Sydney George 
Fisher, B»A, 


The introduction of a new historian of Pennsylvania, and 
so eloquent and able a one as Mr. Sydney George Fisher 
proves himself to be, is a signal occurrence which calls for 
hearty thanks to the publishers, J. B. Lippincott Company. 
The volume just issued is entitled The Making of Pennsyl- 
vania, and this is in truth a very apt description of the 
work. Beginning with the earliest discoverers in this 
latitude, Hudson and Cabot, and graphically detailing the 
origin of the Dutch, Swedish, and English colonies on the 
Delaware, Mr. Fisher manages to mingle with his salient 
facts both humor and style We have such passages as the 
following: “Printz was a jolly good fellow; and is described by DeVries, one 
of the Dutch patroons, as weighing four hundred pounds and taking three drinks 
at every meal. It may be added, in mitigation of this statement, that Printz 
was at that time at Fort Elsingborg, lower down the Delaware, where he had 
fired at De Vries’ ship until she surrendered and evidences of this jocose 
vein, which reminds us pleasantly of Irving, are scattered throughout the well- 
chosen text. 

The keen research of the author has given him so clear a grasp of the sub- 
ject that his generalizations often rise to an eloquent condensation unusual in 
the treatment of so dry a subject as local history. An instance of this is pre- 
sented in the paragraph describing the characteristics of the first settlers : “ The 
Dutchman builds trading-posts and lies in his ship ofi* shore to collect furs. 
The gentle Swede settles on the soft, rich meadow lands, and his cattle wax fat 
and his barns are full of hay. The Frenchman enters the forest, sympathizes 
with its inhabitants, and turns half savage to please them. All alike bow before 
the wilderness and accept it as a fact. But the Englishman destroys it. . . . 
He grasped at the continent from the beginning, and but for him the oak and 
the pine would have triumphed and the prairies still be in possession of the 


Indian and the buffalo.” 

It is Mr. Fisher’s plan to search out the springs of action of each of the 
adventurous peoples who came to the Delaware, as a first step towards deeper 
knowledge of the whole movement, and he has gone far afield with learning 
which has enabled him to analyze traits and identify individuals so that we 
have in his comprehensive volume an epitome of our early growth by races 
rather than collectively as has always hitherto been the case. An example of the 
author’s curious knowledge is given in the following extract, which refers to an 
immemorial meeting-place of the Indians on the neck of land between the 
rivers : “ Penn reserved a small plot of land on the east side of Second Street 
near Walnut to which the Indians could continue to resort and build their 
camp-fires. The land is still there, vacant. and without a building, in the midst 
of one of the great cities of the world, and held in trust for its owners, who 


BOOKS OF THE MONTH. 


739 


will never come.” Mr. Fisher is another added to the growing list of Phila- 
delphia authors of whom we may be truly proud. 


How to Feed Chil Perhaps there is no subject about which we are informed 
dren. A Manual for Scientifically than that of the food we eat and its efiect 

Mothers, Nurses, upon US. That it is of the first importance, that mental as 
and Physicians. By physical life depends upon our sane usage of the 

foods provided by Nature, is a proposition which cannot be 
disputed. Yet even so all-important a factor as the earliest feeding of infants 
is too often treated from the stand-point of tradition or superstition, and the 
race loses in this wise in strength, mental vigor, and number. 

The book under notice, How to Feed Children, by Louise E. Hogan, supplies 
in a concise and perfectly understandable manner all that is needed for an in- 
telligent treatment of the subject by mothers, nurses, and physicians. It cites 
the highest authorities in the specialty of infant diseases, and gives such 
scientific data as are necessary, made plain by simple statement in common 
terms. Besides the direct advice about mother’s milk, weaning, nursing, foods, 
hours of feeding, and methods of sterilization, there is a large section of the 
book devoted to foods and their preparation, — a brief cook-book for the nursery, 
— which is admirable in detail and in comprehensive reach. 

There is undoubtedly a wide field for such a hand-book, and many a 
mother, struggling blindly with the rearing of her infant, will welcome it as a 
household friend. The Messrs. Lippincott have made it enduring and present- 
able in type, size, and binding. 


In Q,uest of the Ideal. 
By Leon de Tinseau. 
Translated by 
Florence Belknap 
Gilmour. 


The charm of French provincial life and scenery is pictured 
very rarely in modern fiction. It is an exclusive and re- 
fined existence in a paradise made by hand, and, as all 
France is divided for most of us into Paris, we are too often 
ignorant that the midland society has its sylvan pleasures, 
its hunts and sports and farming and villa functions, just 


as mid-England has. 

This pastoral novel, translated from the French of Leon de Tinseau by 
Florence Belknap Gilmour, and just put forth by the J. B. Lippincott Company, 
is an epitome of the cpuntry life of the beautiful French provinces, in which 
love and modern theories and politics and the latest news from Paris go hand 
in hand with a plot exciting enough to carry the reader forward, but not too 
intense to prevent him from lingering over the passages in which Thomassin the 
socialist and reformer holds forth against his gentler antagonists. The quiet 
loveliness of Louise Montgodfroy stands as a foil to the masculine activity of 
her mother, and the love at first sight inspired in La Houssaye by Antoinette 
Louarn lends a romantic touch to the rest, which clings to it as to a central 
motive. The translation is not without faults, but it has been done with spirit, 
and In Quest of the Ideal is a story which will be kept within reach after it is 

The interest in all out-door subjects is noticeably increasing 
with the growth of self-examination which marks both 
individuals and nations at the present time. Hence it is 
that the native wild flowers, trees, geology, and birds are 
commoner studies to-day than a generation ago. To keep 
step with this demand as it relates to ornithology the Lippincotts have issued 


read and re-read. 

A Manual of North 
American Birds. 
By Robert Ridg- 
way. 


740 


BOOKS OF THE MONTH. 


The Birds About Us, by Dr. Abbott, and Our Own Birds, giving the popular 
side of the subject, which deals with sentiment and anecdote, and they now 
issue a new edition of the standard scientific work, A Manual of North Amer- 
ican Birds, by Robert Ridgway, which supplies the most exact information in 
the most concise and direct form. 

Since the publication of the first edition, eight years ago, ninety-one species 
and subspecies of birds have been added to the North American fauna, and 
these have been included in the list given in this edition, and introduced into 
the finding keys by which the species of any bird is readily identified. A key 
to the use of this key is provided, and in all respects the present volume is up 
to date, containing everything that experience and knowledge could add to the 
former edition. A capital portrait of Prof. Spencer F. Baird serves as frontis- 
piece, and four hundred and four outline drawings of the generic characters 
complete the volume. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


741 



Worthy Through 
Three Generations. 

A young woman of Ohio recently wrote to the Royal 
Baking Powder Co. : 

“ I have just begun housekeeping. One of the first 
things I require is your Royal Cook Book. Won’t you 
please send one? My mother has used your baking 
powder as long as I can remember, and my grandmother 
used it before her.” 

It is a good heritage for any young housekeeper to 
have been taught to make delicious cake, rolls, tea biscuit, 
etc., with the Royal Baking Powder. Each spoonful does 
its perfect work, and you will never be disappointed. It 
is made of the purest grape cream of tartar ; it is of the 
highest strength possible, and so will be found more eco- 
nomical than the cheap alum kinds. Besides, the Royal 
makes the food digestible and healthful. Every house- 
keeper who has ever used the Royal knows that her 
children and her children’s children will continue to praise 
this faithful aid in all the arts of pastry cooking. 

Any lady who desires the Royal Cook Book can secure 
one, without money and without price, by addressing the 
undersigned. Ask for Book No. 44. 

ROYAL BAKING POWDER CO., 

106 Wall Street, New York. 


742 


CURRENT NOTES. 


Sprinkle’s Dollars. — Do you know what the “Sprinkle dollars” were? 
No. Well, Josiah Sprinkle, the man in question, lived in one of the roughest 
sections of Lewis County, Kentucky. Washington, the county seat of Mason, 
was then a thriving town. One day Sprinkle, then an old man, appeared at 
Washington with a buckskin pouch full of silver dollars of his own make. 

In every respect they appeared the equal of the national coin. The weight 
was more than at present, and the quality and ring were all that could be asked 
for. He spent them freely, and everybody accepted them upon the assurance 
of Sprinkle that they were all right, except that they were not made by the 
United States mint. Upon being asked where he got the silver, he replied, 
“Oh, it don’t matter. There is plenty of it left.” The inscriptions on the 
coins were rudely outlined, and in no wise was an attempt made at imitating 
the national coin. On one side of the coin was an owl, and on the other a six- 
pointed star. The edges were smooth. The coins were considerably larger and 
thicker than the United States coin. Whenever Sprinkle came to town he 
spent the dollars of his own make. 

At one time he volunteered the information that he had a silver-mine in 
the West, but the old man refused to tell any one where it was located. Finally 
the government agents heard of the matter and came on to investigate. Sprinkle 
was arrested and brought into court, but the dollars were proved to be pure 
silver, without alloy, worth, in fact, a trifle more than one dollar each. After 
an exciting trial, he was acquitted. When the verdict was announced. Sprinkle 
reached down in his pockets and drew out a bag of fifty of the coins and paid 
his attorney in the presence of the astonished oflScials. Sprinkle was never 
afterwards bothered, and continued to make the dollars until the time of his 
death. He died suddenly, and carried the secret of his silver-mine with him. 
This was in the early thirties, and it has been twenty years since a Sprinkle 
dollar has been found. — Washington Times. 

A Sublime Appetite. — They were seated at the restaurant table, he look- 
ing over the menu, when she said, gushingly, — 

“ Do you know, dear, I have always longed for the society of a congenial 
soul, one who loved the good, the true ” 

“Pig’s feet, baked beans, cold tripe, griddle-cakes, — which will you have?” 
interrupted “ dear” at this point. 

“ I’ll take them all,” was the soulful answer . — Detroit Free Press. 

Deepest Depths of Ocean. — By slow degrees we are getting to know the 
contour of the sea-bottom almost as well as we do that of the surface of the 
land, but it cannot be said that we have found the deepest water on the earth. 
Depths of fifteen thousand to twenty-seven thousand three hundred and sixty- 
six feet have been reached in the North Atlantic from time to time, and one 
of twenty-seven thousand nine hundred and thirty feet was discovered in the 
North Pacific off the eastern coast of Japan, where there is a remarkable gulf 
or depression. All these measurements have, however, been outstripped by one 
recently taken south of the Friendly Isles in the South Pacific by H.M.S. Pen- 
guin. A depth of twenty-nine thousand four hundred feet had been marked 
when the sounding-wire gave out before the lead had reached the bottom. A 
fresh sounding will therefore have to be made before we can tell the full depth 
of water at this spot . — London Public Opinion. 


CURRENT NOTES. 



What 
is the 
use of 
Patent 
Leather? 


When I can 
polish my 
shoes with 


Brown’s 


SOLD 


Ask 
your 
dealer 
for 


French 
Dressing 


is the most reliable 
Ujpon the market, 
of Brownes French 
is sold throughout t 
than any other make* 


Superior to all others for the following reasons : 

1. It gives a superior polish. 

2. It does not crock or rub off on the skirts. 

3. Unlike all others, it does not crack or hurt the leather, 

but on the contrary, acts as a preservative. 

4. Has been manufactured over forty years and always 

stood at the head. 


Brown’s 

French 

Dressing 


And be 
sure to 
accept 
no other. 


744 


CURRENT NOTES. 


Distressing. — Mrs. Wangle (to wife of missionary who was lost among 
the cannibals). — “ You mustn’t grieve so at his loss, sister.” 

The Wife. — “ Ah, if I only knew just how he died, I would feel better. 
But even now poor James may be soaking in brine; and he couldn’t bear the 
thought of pickles .” — New York Herald. 

Smallest Oxen in the World. — One of the greatest curiosities among 
the domesticated animals of Ceylon is a breed of cattle known to the zoologist 
as the sacred running oxen. They are the dwarfs of the whole ox family, the 
largest specimens of the species never exceeding thirty inches in height. One 
sent to the Marquis of Canterbury in the year 1891, which is still living and is 
believed to be somewhere near ten years of age, is only twenty-two inches high 
and weighs but one hundred and nine and one-half pounds. In Ceylon they 
are used for quick trips across country with express matter and other light 
loads, and it is said that four of them can pull the driver of a two- wheeled cart 
and a two hundred-pound load of miscellaneous matter sixty or seventy miles a 
day. They keep up a constant swinging trot or run, and have been known to 
travel one hundred miles in a day and night without either food or water. No 
one knows anything concerning the origin of this peculiar breed of miniature 
cattle. They have been known on the island of Ceylon and in other Buddhistic 
countries for more than a thousand years. — Information. 

Potatoes. — Potatoes baked in their skins should have a piece cut off the 
ends before baking, in order that the steam may escape. Prepared in this way 
they are light and dry when eaten. 

When boiled, they may be prepared in the same way and the skin removed 
just before serving to each individual. Potatoes are unquestionably dryer and 
finer of flavor when boiled in this way than when pared before cooking. The 
utmost care is necessary to prevent their being cold when eaten, as they grow 
cold rapidly after the skins are removed, and of all things potatoes should be 
hot, in whatever form they are served, unless it be in a cold salad. It is not 
regarded in good form to place boiled potatoes upon the table in their skins. — 
Womankind. 

Wanted a Boss.— West Virginia, the Mountain State, is full of interest- 
ing characters. Back of the rather aristocratic little town of Philippi are 
fastnesses not yet disturbed by the onward march of civilization. A well- 
known politician was canvassing through that section for votes, when he came 
to a cabin where a young woman was holding a man on the ground by his ears. 

“ Done got enough ?” she asked. 

“ I give it up,” he said. Then the girl released the man, who went away, 
looking very much abashed. 

“ What’s the trouble?” inquired the politician. 

“ Thar wa’n’t no trouble,” replied the girl. “ He jes’ axed me ter marry 
’im, an’ I’ve alius said I wouldn’t marry any man I could whop. Kinder looks 
like I couldn’ fin’ one. I’ve tried mos’ of ’em round hyar, an’ none of ’em 
ain’t any good. I tol’ ’im all about it, an’ I didn’ want ter whop this un much, 
but he jus’ went down soon as I tackled ’im. I reckon I’ll hev ter be an ole 
maid. I kain’t abide havin’ no man that ain’t mo’ of a man than me.” — 
Washington Star. 


CURRENT NOTES. 




»ki» 


Wk 


WHAT 

Rev. Dp. 
Parkharst 

SAYS : 



¥ AM making faithful use of the genuine JOHANN 
^ HOFF’S MALT EXTRACT, much to my satis- 
faction and bodily improvement. 

Yours sincerely, 



Ask for the genuine 

JOHANN HOFF’S MALT EXTRACT. 

All Others are Worthless Imitations. 

Avoid substitutes. 

EISNER & MENDELSON CO., Sole Agents, New York. 


746 


CURRENT NOTES. 


The Kiss Ecclesiastic. — At a fashionable wedding-party, just as the 
happy pair were about to start on their wedding-tour, the pretty little bride was 
thanking the clergyman who had made her and her choice one, on which the 
reverend gentleman, who was an old friend of the family and a bit of a wag, 
said, “ But, my dear, you have not paid me my fee.” 

“ What is that?” said the bride. 

“A kiss. Won’t you pay it before you go?” 

“ Of course I will,” she answered, blushing and laughing. And she did. 

A severe old maiden lady, standing by, was terribly shocked at such levity 
and worse, as she thought it, on the part of the jolly divine, but every one else, 
the bridegroom included, smiled at the incident. As the old maid, a little later, 
was about to drive away from the door, she put her head out of her brougham 
window and said, severely, as the parson among others bade her adieu, — 

“ Well, Mr. Clergyman, how about that ecclesiastical kiss?” 

“Not now,” answered he. “1 will give it you another time. So very 
public here.” 

She disappeared. The guests roared, and the parson scored . — London Tit- 

Bits. 


The Consumption of Champagne. — Some statistics have been published 
relating to the annual consumption of champagne in the world. At a rough 
estimate it is calculated that an average of twenty-one million bottles of the 
sparkling wine are drunk every year. England heads the list of countries with 
the greatest consumption, followed by America, though whether this last is in- 
tended to represent the United States alone or the whole of the two divisions 
of the continent is not stated. 

Australia at one time was well to the fore, but it is stated that the recent 
financial troubles there have had an ill effect on the consumption of the effer- 
vescing beverage. The Russians have always had a partiality for champagne, 
but France, on the contrary, hardly wets her lips with it. Some one has, how- 
ever, questioned the genuineness of the champagne that is quaffed in such 
quantities by the English and Americans. All is not gold that glitters, and it 
may also be that all champagne bottles do not contain the real article . — Paris 
Letter to London Telegraph. 

Fine Marksmanship of the Boers.— On the subject of marksmanship 
among the Boers, Mr. White described the training through which most of them 
go from boyhood. Pointing to a photograph that hung in his room, he said, “ I 
have seen that man put a rifle into the hands of a child and tell him to shoot at 
a bottle a hundred yards off or more, promising a reward of ten shillings when 
he could hit that small mark repeatedly. After a time the lad was taught to 
shoot at objects moving at a distance of four hundred yards, and the promise 
that he should have a pony to ride when he became proficient at that practice 
soon made him an expert shot.” 

Rifle-ranges are not scarce in the Transvaal, and many of our volunteers 
would be glad if they could get similar opportunities for musketry-training in 
England. The Boers will have nothing to do with modern magazine rifles. 
They are armed, or arm themselves, with Martini-Henrys, and desire nothing 
better, unless, perhaps, it be a Winchester or Colt repeater, for shooting big 
game on the run . — London Daily News. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


747 



scons . 
EMULSION 

OF PURE 

CODUVEROIL 

WITH 

HYPO PHOSPHITES 


$coif$ eiiim$ioii ,irf ; 

food for ‘‘run-down/* neroc-broken men and 
women. « Tt possesses In a peculiar sense flesb- 
making, strengtb-gioing properties. «««««« 
It neper fails to arrest wasting both in children 
and adults.* ««««*«««*«*«««««««««« 
Don*t let yourself get tbini « there are thou- 
sands of cases where persons hape gained a 
pound a day by taking an ounce a day of $cott*s 
€mulsion. ««««««««««««*«*«**« 


ld M£ AXD SO DI 

POIHON-W OiSEiStS 
covesi COIOS 

CENERW. OESIuriY 


BIRtCTlONS 


shake 


SCOn&BOVNE 


NEW YORK 


Just as doed" i$ not Scott’s Emulsion. 


748 


CURRENT NOTES. 


The Dark Horse. — The “ dark horse” probably originated with Disraeli, 
who, in “ The Young Duke,” refers to an exciting race as follows : “ The first 
favorite was never heard of ; the second was never seen after the distance-post ; 
all the ten-to-ones were in the rear, and a dark horse, which had never been 
thought of, rushed past the grand stand in sweeping triumph.” — Galveston 
News. 

An Unexplored Mountain. — Among the many objects of interest that 
have been brought to light by the Anglo- Venezuelan dispute there is, perhaps, 
none that claims quite so much attention from the scientific world as the so- 
called Mountain of Roraima. Situated in the southwestern corner of Sir 
Robert Schomburgk’s alleged boundary between British Guiana and Venezuela, 
this wonderful geographical phenomenon, although long known, has elicited 
but little interest. In point of fact, however, it is a veritable scientific sphinx, 
the message of whose riddle has come down intact and unread from far geologi- 
cal epochs to the present time. This stupendous mountain, or isolated table- 
land, which the native Indians call Roraima, or the mysterious, rises high in 
solitary grandeur above the surrounding mountain system, its perpendicular 
rocky sides rendering it absolutely inaccessible to the foot of man or beast. 
Crowning this impregnable fortress of Nature is a tract of territory estimated 
to contain upward of one hundred and forty square miles. Unlike other in- 
accessible mountain summits of the world, this elevated region is no mere 
wilderness of snow-capped ridges. On the contrary, all the indications, in- 
cluding the positive evidence of the telescope, point to its being covered with 
forests, intersected with rivers, fed from lakes, and to its possessing a climate 
that must, in the nature of things, be temperate, — that is, neither wintry, 
despite its altitude, nor tropical, despite its equatorial position. Whether the 
possession of this South American geological sphinx ultimately falls to England 
or to Venezuela, it is to be hoped that science will not much longer delay in 
wresting from it the secret it has enclosed and been waiting to divulge through 
many ages. The possible results would justify almost any cost that may be 
incurred in pursuance of this object. — Information. 

Mary Anderson. — Mary Anderson De Navarro, in recounting her early 
stage experience in The Ladies' Home Journal, asserts that New Orleans audi- 
ences were the first to give her recognition of a substantial sort, and of the 
Crescent City she speaks with genuine fondness. Rather oddly, it was in 
“Meg Merrilies” that she won the favor and plaudits of the New Orleans 
public. The house on the occasion of her presentation of the play was crowded, 
and the audience wildly enthusiastic. “ There were speeches and presenta- 
tions,” writes Mrs. De Navarro, “ and checks concealed in baskets of flow’ers 
were handed over the footlights.” One gift that came on that night to the 
aspiring young actress and brought her much joy was a Washington Artillery 
badge, which made her a member of the battalion that won the name of the 
Tigers in the late war. 

Good Excuse. — Frank comes into the house in a sorry plight. 

“ Mercy on us !” exclaims his father, “ how you look ! You are soaked !” 

“Please, papa, I fell into the canal.” 

“ What? With your new trousers on ?” 

“ Yes, papa. I didn’t have time to take them off.” — Philadelphia Times. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


749 


MILWAUKEE BE&R IS FAMOUS PABST MAS MADE IT SO. 



THt ART OP BREWING WA6 DEVELOPED BY THE GERHANS 





750 


CURRENT NOTES. 


Never Fails. — “Where are you going?” said the banana-peel to the 
passer-by. 

“Oh, just taking a little trip,” replied the passer-by, as he sat down upon 
the sidewalk . — New York Tribune. 


Dr. Johnson on Women. — Of marriage in the abstract, Johnson highly 
approved. “Every man,” he said, “is a worse man in proportion as he is 
unfit for the married state.” He even approved of a man contracting a second 
marriage, and considered it as a compliment to the first wife. He acknowledged, 
however, that he had once been on the point of asking Mrs. Johnson not to 
marry again. She might well have granted his request without any fear of 
being tempted to break her promise. Johnson ridiculed the idea of a man 
being unwilling to marry a pretty woman lest he should have cause for jealousy. 
“ No, sir,” he said, “I would prefer a pretty woman, unless there are objections 
to her. A pretty woman, if she has a mind to be wicked, can find a readier 
way than another, and that is all.” He had, in fact, made a profound study 
of women from every point of view. And yet, as Mr. Craig observes, Johnson 
never took women quite seriously, and would not hear of their assuming an 
equality with men, either in mental or bodily pursuits. — Athenaeum. 


Queen Bess and her Sailors. — Queen Elizabeth personally liked her 
sailors and their way of life. She had all a woman’s love of the adventurer. 
They brought her money, finery, and flattery, and she dearly loved all three. 
But they suited not only her tastes, but her policy. There was a mutual under- 
standing between them. If, for reasons of state, it was necessary to disown their 
privateering feats, even when they were triumphantly successful, they must 
reckon on her hard words and black looks. If it was safe to acknowledge them, 
they were rewarded with open smiles and favors. Thoroughly characteristic, 
for example, was her treatment of Francis Drake when the ever-glorious Peli- 
can came home, leaving a wake behind her which went right round the world. 
He had laughed at Spanish protests, plundered Spanish treasure, towns, and 
ships, with the light-hearted audacity of the gentleman bandit, and anchored 
at Plymouth with an El Dorado in his hold and the shouts of admiring Eng- 
land in his ears. 

Mendoza, the Spanish ambassador, furiously demanded that “ the dragon” 
should be forced to disgorge his plunder. But it suited the queen to teach the 
Spaniard a lesson, — that if his master encouraged Irish rebels she would en- 
courage English privateers. Drake was the lion of her court. She ostenta- 
tiously walked about with him in the public gardens. The Pelican was the 
scene of a royal banquet, and Gloriana made rough Francis one of her knights. 
— Good Words. 


Time’s Changes. — Twenty-five years ago H. B. Mears, an inventive watch- 
maker of Youngstown, Ohio, turned out a bicycle which, though heavier, was 
very similar to the bikes now in use. The people did not take kindly to the 
new machine, and when Mears continued to use it against their protest he found 
that his business was injured, and he was finally compelled to close his store 
and locate elsewhere. Now every one in town who can afibrd it, and many 
who cannot, is riding a wheel . — Pittsburg Dispatch. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


751 




The Highest Testimony 
in the Land. 

The OflScial Reports of the 
United States Government, 1889, 
Canadian Government, 1889, 
New Jersey Commission, 1889, 
Ohio Food Commission, 1887, 
show Cleveland’s Superior” to be 
the best baking powdei- manufac- 
tured, being the strongest of all 
the pure cream of tartar powders. 



De IHortius. 

Some one anxious to tell the whole truth, unmindful of the injunction to “ say nothing of 
the dead except good, ’ ’ and in the interest of widows and orphans, has collected a few stock 
allusions to the departed, and has supplemented them with such comments as may invite 
thinking men to their duty. If they are counted severe, it must be remembered they are 
impersonal. 

“ He died in the prime of life,” and his entire income died with him. 

“He leaves a widow and several children to mourn his loss.” The loss is 
total * there was no insurance. 

“The bereaved family has the sympathy of the entire community.” The ebb 
and flow of sympathy at a funeral are well known. It is rarely expressed in 
dollars. 

“ He was a kind and thoughtful husband,” and left his widow without a dollar 
of insurance protection. 

“He was a loving, indulgent father,” whose orphans his widow will have a 
hard struggle in supporting, 

“He was a careful, upright business man.” In the absence of insurance his 
elegant home will iust ateut cover his debts and the mortgage. 

“ He was very determined, very self-reliant,” absolutely refusing to talk or be 
talked to on life insurance. He could invest his own money, and he did. It is 
beyond the reach of his widow. 

“The firm of Smith, Debt & Co, is this day dissolved.” The fact is, the 
senior member died uninsured, and the junior member therefore became sole 
proprietor. 

“The Widow Smith wishes a few boarders. No. 13 Factory Row.” Rate of 
No. 7 Highland Place and Grand Avenue. 

“ Death notices not exceeding two lines published free.” Two lines may an- 
nounce a death and a funeral, while a whole newspaper could not record the battle 
with poverty and want waged by the widow of the uninsured. 

The duty recognized, the means to the end .should be considered. There is more than one 
good life insurance company. The best company is the one that combines in the largest de- 
gree the best features of all. Unless we believed this to exist in ours, we should be slow to 
invite examination and comparison. Send for publications (no obligation imposed) to the 

PENN MUTUAL LIFE, 921 - 3-5 Chestnut St., Philadelphia. 





752 


CURRENT NOTES. 


“ For a Hors.” — A Western veterinarian sent the following to be filled : 

t 

Send this by this Boy 
Tinker of Asfetty 1 ounc 
- Camphor 1 ounc 

Cappicom 1 

Lodman 1 

Mix 

Anknite 10c. 

Cloraform 1 ounc 


do not think this is spelt wright 
but you will know what it is 
it is for a hors. dock M.D. 

Louisville Medical News. 

Modern Biography. — Modesty is not one of the autobiographer’s char- 
acteristics. After many pages relative to his achievements, both in general and 
in particular, but mostly in particular, a Florida physician asked his biogra- 
phers to “ tell the world what I have done.” A dentist thus chronicled his 
work : “ Since removing to Dakota, Dr. Molar’s career has been a series of 
brilliant successes.” Twenty pages devoted to the achievements, ancestry, 
personal appearance, etc., of a wholesale grocer wound up with the credible 
statement, “ Mr. Soapandstarch is a modest man.” That the agent is the prime 
cause of biography factory success is proved by the following letters. In each 
instance the agent’s letter was accompanied by a bulky autobiography from the 
subject :” 

Messrs. & Co. . 

“ Gents. — I send you the biogs. of Mr. and Mrs. under a separate 

cover. I have been working on Mr. Walker for a $1,000 order ever since I have 
been in this city, but have not yet secured it. He is very wealthy and full of 
conceit, judging from the biogs. he had copied from different publications and 
from what I have observed, but his leg has been pulled until it got soar {sic), 
and now it is hard to get his name down again. He said he wanted to see how 
we will write his and his wife’s biogs. before he will do anything. I think it 
will pay you to write these two biogs. at once and give them all the flattery pos- 
sible. You cannot give them too much. Write them extensively, and after I 
have the orders you can cut them down to suit yourselves. Both Mr. and Mrs. 

said that all the biogs. that have been written about them don’t do them 

justice at all. They imagine that they are the greatest people in the State. 
Write above the biogs. that it is written by the editor-in-chief, because I told 
them that I would have the biogs. written by our editor-in-chief, and that he is 
a great historian and only writes the biogs. of great value. You’d better write 
a letter to me, saying that the editorial staff have decided that Mr. and Mrs. 
Walker are entitled to a full-page portrait, and that if he is willing to pay for 
it you will publish it, etc.” 

“Gents. — Write the inclosed biog. in grand style and send it to me right 
off. It means $700 if I succeed in securing his order. Write a letter to me, 

stating that the editorial staff has decided that Dr. is entitled to a full-page 

portrait .” — New York Sun. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


753 







J 


& 


i5 


tz 


29 


%Y 

18^6 

\t 


3 





/6 


25 


50 


fo. 


2 -? 


Next Month 
is June 

With the out-of-date cal- 
endar leaf why not dis- 
card an out-of-date cus- 
tom in your kitchen ? Do 
away with lard and put in 
Cottolene — a delicious and 
wholesome shortening, 
especially fine for delica- 
>cies. Genuine 

OLENE 

Is sold everywhere, with trade marks— “CottoJene” and steer’s head in cotton-plant ivreath— on every tin. Made only by 

THE N. K. FAIRBANK COMPANY, 

Chicago, St. Louis, New York, Boston, Philadelphia, San Francisco, New Orleans, Montreal. 




PROVIDENT LIFE AND TRUST CO. 

OF PHILADELPHIA. 


Attention is directed to the new Instalment- Annuity Policy of the Provident, 
which provides a fixed income for twenty years, and for the continuance of the 
income to the widow for the balance of her life, if she should survive the instal- 
ment period of twenty years. 

In everything which makes Life Insurance perfectly safe and moderate in cost, and 
in liberality to policy-holders, the Provident is unsurpassed. 


CHlLDREl^ 


dEETHlNe 




For Children While Cutting Their Teeth. 

Pi ol^ am WGii-TFim M, 

ROR OVER RIR-TV YEARS. 


MRS. WINSLOW’S SOOTHING SYRUP 

has been used for over FIFTY YEARS by MILLIONS of MOTHERS for their CHILDREN WHILE TEETH- 
ING, with PERFECT SUCCESS. IT SOOTHES THE, CHll.D, SOFTENS the GUMS, ALLAYS all PAIN, 
CURES WIND COLIC, and is the best remedy for DIARRH(EA. Sold by Druggists in every part of the 
world. Be sure and ask for Itirs. Winslow’s Sootliiiig' Syrup, and take no other kind. 

TWENTY-FIVE CENTS A BOTTEE. 


VoL. LVII -48 



754 


CURRENT NOTES. 


A Mountain Wooing. — “I was in what is known as the ‘flag-pond’ dis- 
trict of Union County, Tennessee,” said a travelling man to a Star writer, 
“ when a young man rode up in front of the cabin where I was stopping and 
spoke to a girl who was dipping water from a spring. 

‘“Howdy, Sal?’ 

“ ‘ Howdy, Tom ?’ 

“ ‘ Come, jump on the boss an’ go to Erwin with me.’ 

“‘What fur?” 

“ ‘ Ter git married.’ 

“ ‘ But yo’ hain’t done co’ted me yit.’ 

“ ‘ I know I hain’t, but I’ve been too pestered with work. I alius intended 
ter marry yer, though.’ 

“ ‘ But I hain’t got no clo’s,’ remonstrated the girl. 

“ ‘ Well, we’ll jes’ ride on yon side of Erwin to Sister Mag’s in the cove 
an’ I’ll git yer a dress.’ 

“‘Sho’ly, Tom?’ 

“‘Sho’ly, Sal.’ 

“ ‘ What kin’ of a dress?’ 

“ ‘ Best thar is in Lowe’s sto’.’ 

“Not another word was said. Sal dropped the bucket and jumped on the 
horse, shouting to her mother, — 

“‘Mam, me an’ Tom is goin’ ter git married at Erwin. We’ll be by here 
in the mornin’.’ 

“ The mother started as if to call her back, but the horse was galloping 
down the lane, and she went and carried in the bucket of water without com- 
ment.” — Washington Star. 

Art. — Mistress. — “ Well, Mary, what did you think of the pictures at the 
Academy?” 

Mary. — “ Oh, mum, there was a picture there called ‘ Two Dogs After Land- 
seer,’ and I looked at it for nearly half an hour, but couldn’t see no Land- 
seer.” — Strand Magazine. 

Trees Five Centuries Old. — Gericke, the great German forester, writes 
that the greatest ages to which trees in Germany are positively known to have 
lived are from five hundred to five hundred and seventy years. For instance, 
the pine in Bohemia and the pine in Norway and Sweden have lived to the 
latter age. Next comes the silver fir, which in the Bohemian forests has stood 
and thrived for upward of four hundred years. In Bavaria the larch has 
reached the age of two hundred and seventy-five years. Of foliage trees the 
oak appears to have survived the longest. The best example is the evergreen 
oak at Aschaflenburg, which reached the age of four hundred and ten years. 
Other oaks in Germany have lived to be from three hundred and fifteen to three 
hundred and twenty years old. At Aschaflenburg the red beech has lived to the 
age of two hundred and forty-five years, and at other points to the age of two 
hundred and twenty-five years. Of other trees the highest known are ash, one 
hundred and seventy years ; birch, one hundred and sixty to two hundred years ; 
aspen, two hundred and twenty years; mountain maple, two hundred and 
twenty-five years ; elm, one hundred and thirty years, and red alder, one hun- 
dred and forty-five years. — London Public Opinion. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


755 



American Beauties Use 


TEETH 

AND 

Breath 


As fragrant and re- 
freshing as the flowers, 
KSaa SoaoDONT is a favorite 
iSf witn the beautiful and 
^ refined women of Amer- 
ica, gentlemen of culti- 
vated tastes demand it and 
children always want it. 
The test of half a century 
reveals Sozodont the most 
wholesome of all dentifrices. 

A sample by mail if you send three cents 
for postag^e and mention this publication. 
Address the Proprietors of Sozoi^ont, 
Hall 8c Ruckel, New York. 


AMKKICAN HWUtY ROSIS 
J for 

; er^Ksjs"^ 


m 






The greatest charm of Copco Soap, whose praises many a housewife sings. 

Lies in the undisputed fact, that it's so good for dainty things. 

Jt costs no more than common soap, and yet is pure beyond compare; 

And that is why so many folk are using Copco everywhere. 

For a soap to wash your hands with a dozen times a 
day — to wash glassware and china, laces and em- 
broideries there is nothing to compare with the celebrated 
Copco Soap. 







k 



— a pure soap — a soap that makes fine clothes last long, 
and keeps your hands soft and smooth. Sold 
everywhere. Made only by 

TH£1 N. K. FAIRBANK COMPAJVY, 

Chicago, New York, St. Louis. 



756 


CURRENT NOTES. 


Saved by a Glove-Button. — How much may depend upon a glove- 
fastening was illustrated at one of the Monson slate-quarries in an adventure 
which the person concerned would not care to repeat. He was a derrick-man, 
who stood on the brink of one of the great chasms from which the slate rock 
is hoisted. His duty was to catch hold of the big hook depending from the end 
of the boom as it swung over the bank and attach it to the crate to be sent back 
into the pit. Standing upon the very edge, he reached out to catch the hook 
which dangled near him. It was winter, and he wore thick buckskin gloves. 
The hook slipped from him as he leaned out, but caught into the fastening of 
the glove. The swing of the great boom took him off his feet in an instant 
and carried him out into giddy space with his life depending on the glove’s 
holding fast. His whole weight was hung on that button, and there was a clear 
one hundred and seventy-five feet of space between him and the floor of rock 
below. The moments that passed before the boom could be swung back over 
the bank seemed like hours to him, but he got there at last safe and sound. — 
Lewiston Journal. 

Recollections of Carlyle. — Mrs. Carlyle was dressed in black velvet. 
She had a pale blue ribbon around her neck, to which was attached a large gold 
cross. She also wore a brooch which had been given to her by Goethe. One 
of her bracelets, a very pretty one, pebbles of different colors and beautifully 
cut, polished and set in silver, she told the lady I had been invited to meet was 
a present from the same great man. Soon after we had adjourned to the drawing- 
room, I heard a latch-key in the door, and, listening intently, heard steps and 
voices in the hall. Mrs. Carlyle gave me a mischievous smile, as Mr. Carlyle, 
followed by two gentlemen, entered the room. They were all in high spirits, 
and had been to see Chang, the Chinese giant. 

After Mr. Carlyle’s kind “ How d’ye do ?” I had no further word from him 
that night, but was sufficiently interested in listening to the brilliant, clever talk. 
One of these gentlemen was Professor Tyndall. The other I did not recognize. 
The professor gave me my tea, and talked to me a little, but I preferred listening, 
— keeping well in Mrs. Carlyle’s shadow, and slipping quietly away when it 
grew late. — Blackwood's Magazine. 

The Adventures of Rochefort.— M. Henri Rochefort has written a 
characteristic introduction to his “ Adventures of my Life.” He describes the 
extraordinary vicissitudes of his existence, — one day a minister, with enormous 
power, a month or two later on his way to a convict settlement on the other 
side of the world. But it is the ups and downs in the lives of others, and 
notably in the lives of great painters, that Rochefort depicts in the most inter- 
esting way. He lived in the same house with Corot, and has seen the great 
master trampling in rage upon the pictures he could find no one to purchase. 
He met Millet once, in the street Notre Dame de Lorette, at a little dealer’s, to 
whom he had just offered a picture for three hundred francs which Rochefort 
has since seen sold for eighty-seven thousand francs. He publishes a letter of 
Millet containing the following passage : “ I dare not pass before the butcher’s. 
There are not two shillings in the house, and this has been my condition for 
some twenty years.” Laughing at the English love of hunting and shooting, 
Rochefort tells how he used to go out hunting each morning in the London 
picture-dealers’ shops, and how he recently unearthed a superb Gericault, which 
was given to him for a mere nothing . — Saturday Review. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


757 


Madam : We take the liberty of calling your attention to our Floating-Borax Soap, believing 
that a trial will show you its great value for toilet, bath, or laundry use. It is not an imitation 
of anything, but is better than all other floating soaps, as it is absolutely pure. We do not aim 
to follow, but to lead. No doubt you know the value of Borax, in the bath or laundry. This 
soap, and Dobbins’ Electric (which latter we have made for the last thirty years and still make), 
are the only soaps which really contain Borax, although some others claim to contain it, and 
as Dobbins’ Electric stands at the head of the non-floating laundry soaps, so Floating-Borax 
stands far above all other floating soaps, and is without doubt the best floating soap that can 
possibly be made. Compare its color and odor with that of any other brand. 

This soap when made is a pale cream color, but with age the Borax in it bleaches it to 
a pure white. Some floating soaps turn brown and rancid with age. We take pride in calling 
attention to the following certificate from the leading analytical chemists of this city : 

Dobbins Soap Manufacturing Co., 

1 19 South Fourth Street, Philadelphia. 

Gentlemen : We have carefully analyzed the sample of Dobbins’ Floating-Borax Soap you sent us, and 
find it to contain fully five per cent, of Borax (Bi-Borate of Soda). It contains nothing injurious for use in the 
bath, toilet, or laundry. We find it free from all adulteration, and therefore certify to its purity. 

Yours respectfully, 

BOOTH, GARRETT & BLAIR. 

We believe that you will be so pleased with this soap that you will desire to continue its 
use, in which case please order it of your grocer, and be sure that he gives you what you ask for. 

It is the only floating soap whose wrappers are printed in red, hence it is impossible to 
mistake it for any other, even at a distance. Ask for DOBBINS’ FLOATING-BORAX SOAP, 
red wrapper. Yours respectfully, 

DOBBINS SOAP MFG. CO., Philadelphia, Pa. 


Consumption Cured. — An old physician, retired from practice, had placed 
in his hands by an East India missionary the formula of a simple vegetable 
remedy for the speedy and permanent cure of Consumption, Bronchitis, Catarrh, 
Asthma, and all throat and lung affections, also a positive and radical cure 
for nervous debility and all nervous complaints. Having tested its wonderful 
curative powers in thousands of cases, and desiring to relieve human suffering, 
I will send free of charge, to all who wish it, this recipe, in German, French, or 
English, with full directions for preparing and using. Sent by mail, by ad- 
dressing, with stamp, naming this paper, W. A. Noyes, 820 Powers’ Block, 
Rochester, New York. 


The First Man Dress-Maker. — There were male dress-makers before 
Worth. The first celebrity who made his mark in this particular line was 
Rliomberg, the son of a Bavarian peasant from the neighborhood of Munich. 
One day in the month of May, 1730, a beautiful equipage was seen driving 
about Paris with an escutcheon in the shape of a corset and an open pair of 
sci.ssors in the middle painted on the panel of each door. That was Rhom- 
berg’s coat of arms, and it told its own tale. He was a genius in his way, and 
owed his success chiefly to his skill in disguising slight deformities and bringing 
out the most attractive charms of his fair customers. He rapidly made a for- 
tune, and left his heirs an annual income of fifty thousand francs. Under the 
first empire and the restoration Leroy supplied the dresses of the ladies of the 
court and the higher nobility from his splendid mansion in the Rue Richelieu. 
An effusive encomium was written upon him by Auger, a member of the 
Academy . — Gazette Anecdotique. 


758 


CURRENT NOTES. 


How DO THEY DO IT ? — If abundant instruction would make us into novel- 
ists the people of England ought to be a nation of Fieldings. To produce some 
such result is perhaps hardly the aim of the author of “ How to Write Fiction,” 
originally a set of letters to a lady, who improved immensely under her tutor. 
We have no belief at all in this kind of education. The novelist, like the poet, 
is born, not made. No amount of “ coaching” will teach a man to be a story- 
teller. If he wrote like an angel, and yet had not the inborn power of telling 
a story, people would say that his book was “ very nicely written,” and nobody 
would read it. If Heaven made him a story-teller, no delinquencies of style, 
were they as striking and common as Scott’s, will prevent people from reading 
him. Who taught Miss Braddon ? “Ut Nemo” — why, nobody, as the school- 
boy translated Horace’s “Qui fit Maecenas” — who made Maecenas? Who 
“made” Miss Bronte? Nobody but her Maker. George Lewes, himself as 
unreadable [qiba novelist) as Mr. Stevenson found McCrie, attempted to “coach” 
Miss Bronte after she had produced “Jane Eyre.” It was as if a private in the 
volunteers were to lecture Lord Eoberts. 

Nobody, as far as we are aware, instructed Mr. Kipling. M. Guy de Mau- 
passant alone went to a private tutor, M. Flaubert, and we have no doubt that 
Flaubert should have improved under his pupil. However, he really fell off*. 
Miss Austen was a mere chit when she wrote “Pride and Prejudice.” She had 
never heard any dull, pedantic twaddle about “ a science of human nature,’* 
any more than the Maid of Orleans had attended the Staff* college. She was 
born with humor, taste, insight, and genius, — qualities which dull little manuals 
cannot bestow. 

The story-teller is a story-teller, as Scott was, from infancy. True, a very 
stupid man, by collecting grimy anecdotes and retailing them in an affected 
jargon, may get other stupid penmen to praise him, but “as for reading him, it 
is impossible and cannot be done.” When Fielding took up his quill, he had 
no model or master, only a competent classical education — and genius. Yet 
Fielding remains the king of his art, undethroned by all the pretenders who 
babble a popular science and cheap Darwinism over the water. — London News. 

He knew too Much. — A story is told of a meek-looking stranger, with a 
distinctly ministerial air, who applied for permission to look over a large 
rubber-factory. He knew nothing at all about the rubber business, he said, 
and, after a little hesitation, he was admitted. 

The superintendent showed him about in person, and the man’s questions 
and comments seemed to come from the densest ignorance. Finally, when the 
grinding-room was reached, he lingered a little, and asked, in a hesitating 
way,— 

“ Couldn’t I have a specimen of that curious stuff* for my cabinet?” 

“ Certainly,” replied the superintendent, although it was a compound the 
secret of which was worth thousands of dollars, — “ certainly. Cut off* as much 
as you wish.” 

With eager step the visitor approached the roll of gum, took out his knife, 
wet the blade in his mouth, and — 

“ Stop right where you are !” said the superintendent, laying a heavy hand 
'upon the stranger. “ You are a fraud and a thief. You didn’t learn in a pulpit 
that a dry knife won’t cut rubber.” 

So saying, he showed the impostor to the door, and the secret was still safe. 
— The India Rubber World. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


769 


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760 


CURRENT NOTES. 


Thought without Reverence. — “Shall your science proceed in the 
small chink-lighted or even oil-lighted underground worship of logic alone^ 
and man’s mind become an arithmetical mill, whereof memory is the hopper, 
and mere tables of sines and tangents, codification and treatises of what you 
call political economy, are the meal?” And what is that science, which the 
scientific head alone, were it screwed off*, and, like the doctor’s in the Arabian 
tale, set in a basin to keep it alive, could prosecute without shadow of a heart, 
but one other of the mechanical and menial handicrafts for which the scientific 
head, having a soul in it, is too noble an organ ? I mean that thought without 
reverence is barren, perhaps poisonous, at best dies, like cookery, with the day 
that called it forth ; does not live, like sowing in successive tilths and wider 
spreading harvests, bringing food and plenteous increase to all time. — Carlyle, 

The Mystery of Life. — What do we know of life? Carbonic acid, 
water, and ammonia, when taken into a plant, produce in some way protoplasm, 
which is a substance composed of minute corpuscles, and inside each corpuscle 
there is a smaller body called a nucleus. By taking in carbonic acid, water, 
and ammonia, and converting them into this compound, called protein, the 
plant maintains its vigor, grows, and multiplies. The animal does the same by 
taking in the same compound, with this difference, that, whereas the plant can 
manufacture protoplasm out of inorganic matter, the animal is obliged to pro- 
cure it ready made from the plants. The same nucleated mass of protoplasm 
that is the unit of plant life is the unit of animal life. The body and the plant 
are multiples of such units variously modified, but in their composition identical. 
When the animal dies, the carbonic acid, the water, and the ammonia of his 
body are restored to the collective stock ; again they are taken into new plants, 
and through new plants into new animals. Thus protoplasm is the basis of all 
life. It is built up of ordinary matter, and it is resolved again into ordinary 
matter. Plants can make protoplasm out of its component parts ; animals can 
convert lifeless into living protoplasm. This is the only difference between a 
man and a plant as regards their making. How all this is done we have not 
the remotest notion ; all that we know is that it is done. Remove the carbon, 
the oxygen, the hydrogen, and the nitrogen which form carbonic acid, water, 
and ammonia, from the globe, and all vitality, whether animal or vegetable, 
would disappear from it. When brought together under certain conditions 
they give rise to protoplasm, and this protoplasm produces all the phenomena 
of life . — London Truth. 

A Former Russian Statesman. — During the first half of Catherine’s 
reign the leading statesman was Count Panin, almost the only one of the 
empress’s advisers who dared to think for himself. He was the most level- 
headed of her statesmen ; aud yet we read concerning him that his indolence 
and sloth were beyond expression. 

He was voluptuous by temperament and slothful in system, and to the 
industrious Swedish ambassador, Holker, he once remarked, “ My dear baron, 
it is evident that you are not accustomed to affairs of state if you let them 
interfere with your dinner.” In 1778 our English ambassador, Harris, wrote 
to the Foreign Office, “ You will not credit me if I tell you that out of the 
twenty-four hours Count Panin only gives half an hour to the discharge of his 
official duties .” — Saturday Review. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


761 


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Figures in the Queen’s Fortunes.— Those who can spy a divinity in 
odd numbers and know how the number nine figures in Etruscan religion, or 
clings to muses, planets, orders of angels, and so forth, besides having pecu- 
liar properties of its own, inexplicable to all but mathematicians, — all such 
may be interested in finding how closely interwoven is this number with the 
fortunes of Queen Victoria. The Duke of Kent, her father, was one of nine 
sons; her majesty is the ninth sovereign since the revolution of 1688. Born in 
the nineteenth century, in 1819 (1 plus 8 plus 1 plus 9 equals 19), she came to 
the throne in 1837 (1 plus 8 plus 3 plus 7 equals 19), in her nineteenth year. 
Her husband was born in 1819; she has had nine children ; her eldest son, born 
on the 9th of November, married the daughter of Christian IX. of Denmark, 
who was then in her nineteenth year. — Westminster Gazette. 


Her First Bicycle Lesson. — A young woman describes her first bicycle 
lesson in a manner which will strike responsive chords in many hearts. 

“ It came my turn,” she says, “ and I tried to look unconcerned. A young 
man rolled out a wheel in front of me in a business-like way, turned a screw, 
lowered the seat, gave it a final shake to see that it was all right, and then mo- 
tioned to me to mount. I have been in a hurricane when our steamer was hove 
to off the coast of New Zealand and all the wood-work was washed overboard ; 
I have been in a railway smash-up and was handed out of the car through a 
hole in the roof ; I have sat by the off window of a stage-coach when the wheel 
slipped over the side of a precipice ; I have been in many strange adventures; 
but never had I such an acute feeling of peril as when I sat on the top of that 
bicycle, holding on for life to the steering-bar .” — Philadelphia Times. 


762 


CURRENT NOTES. 


Always Moving. — “ John/’ said a frightened wife in the middle of the 
night, “ there is something moving down cellar, I’m sure.” 

John listened intently. 

“ Oh, it’s nothing but the gas-meter pegging away,” he said, with a sigh of 
relief. — Harlem Life. 

Chance. — Mathematicians have for a century striven to make a law gov- 
erning chances, but such illustrations as the following beat them. 

The writer was once present at the following trial. A gentleman picked 
up a lottery list containing the winning numbers, some three thousand six 
hundred out of one hundred thousand. He invited two others to put up ten 
dollars each, write a number, and if it came on the list it would take the thirty 
dollars. One man wrote these three successive combinations, 227, 7,261, and 
18,418. Each of these groups was found on the list, so he won ninety dollars. 
He put it all into one-dollar tickets and drew all blanks. Certainly no human 
prescience nor sagacity could order these things or change them. — Philadelphia 
Times. 

The Shadow cast by Shakespeare. — One of the best and most curious 
proofs of the supremacy of Shakespeare among English writers is to be found 
in the length and depth of the shadow that has been cast by his fame. There is 
hardly a writer in the century of his apparition but has suffered from the bright- 
ness of that neighborhood. The works of great Elizabethan and Jacobean 
dramatists were ransacked for one hundred years to illustrate Shakespeare’s 
poorest jests before they were edited for their proper merits. Beaumont and 
Fletcher may thank their mighty contemporary, and him alone, that their plays, 
for all the wit and romance that enliven them, have remained a part of the 
scholar’s furniture. The greater British Public has its Shakespeare and will 
none of them. The brave array of Caroline poets, Herrick and his company, 
long bore a twofold burden of neglect. They were not Shakespeare, and they 
were not of his age. Only recently have they been securely reprinted. 

Backward the shadow lies deeper. Marlowe, Greene, Peele, and the rest, 
as dramatists and predecessors of Shakespeare, have had their full share of 
attention, but the whole mass of literature that went to the making of Shake- 
speare, the output especially of the earlier half of Elizabeth’s reign, has, with 
this exception, been scarcely reprinted in modern days. So innocent and 
plenary has been the confidence of his countrymen in Shakespeare’s thievery 
that they have trusted him to steal them all that was good in English literature 
during the years of his upbringing. — W. E. Henley, in Fortnightly Review. 

The Russian Code of Honor. — Two young Russian oflScers attached to 
the Orsk infantry regiment recently quarrelled over their cups in a cafk, chantant 
at Orenburg, and one of them struck the other across the cheek with his open 
hand. The subalterns were intimate comrades, and the aggressor made an 
ample and satisfactory apology when he came to his senses. This was cordially 
accepted by his friend ; but the regimental court of honor decreed that the 
officers should fight, and a duel was arranged with pistols at twenty paces. The 
young lieutenant who had received the afiront and forgiven his friend was hit 
in the thigh and crippled, and consequently is unfitted for further service. The 
tragi-comical proceedings of these military courts of honor are as stupid as they 
are mischievous. — London Daily News. 


The June Number 


LIPPINCOTT’S 

MAGAZINE, 

READY MAY S.Z, 

Will contain a Complete Novel entitled 

FROM CLUE TO CLIMAX 


WILL N. HARBEN, 


Author of “White Marie,” “Almost Persuaded,” “A Mute Confessor,” 
“The Land of the Changing Sun,” etc. 


And the Usual Variety of Stories, Essays, 

Poems, etc. 

X. 


For List of Complete Novels contained in Former Numbers, see Next Page. 


THE COMPLETE NOVELS 


WHICH HAVE ALREADY APPEARED IN 

LIPRINCOTT'S MAGAZINE. 


AND WHICH ARE ALWAYS OBTAINABLE, ARE 

No. 


No. 

341. An Impending Sword. Horace Annesley Vachell 


340. Flotsam Owen Hall 

339. A "Whim and a Chance . . William T. Nichols 
338. Ground-Swells .... Jeannette H. Walworth 
337. Mrs. Crichton’s Creditor . . Mrs. Alexander 
336. The Old Silver Trail . . . Mary E. Stickney 
335. In Sight of the Goddess. Harriet Kiddle Davis 
334. My Strange Patient . . . William T. Nichols 
333. A Case in Equity Francis Lynde 


332. Little Lady Lee . . . Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron 
331. A Social Highwayman. Elizabeth Phipps Train 
330. The Battle of Salamanca. Benito Pfirez GaldOs 
329. The Lady of Las Cruces . . . Christian Reid 
328. Alain of Halfdene . . . Anna Robeson Brown 
327. A Tame Surrender . . Captain Charles King 
326. The Chapel of Ease . . . Harriet Riddle Davis 
326. The Waifs of Fighting Rocks. 

Charles Mcllvaine 

324, Mrs. Hallam’s Companion. 

Mrs. Mary J. Holmes 

323. Dora’s Defiance Lady Lindsay 

322. A Question of Courage . . . Francis Lynde 

321. Captain Molly Mary A. Denison 

320, Sweetheart Manette . . . Maurice Thompson 

319. Captain Close Captain Charles King 

318. The Wonder- Witch .... M. G. McClelland 
317. A Professional Beauty. Elizabeth Phipps Train 
316. The Plying Halcyon . . Richard Henry Savage 

315. A Desert Claim Mary E. Stickney 

314. The Picture of Las Cruces . . Christian Reid 

313. The Colonel Harry Willard French 

312. Sergeant Croesus .... Captain Charles King 
311. An Unsatisfactory Lover .... The Duchess 
310. The Hepburn Line . . . Mrs. Mary J. Holmes 
309. A Bachelor’s Bridal . . . . H. Lovett Cameron 
308. In the Midst of Alarms .... Robert Barr 
307. The Troublesome Lady . Patience Stapleton 
306. The Translation of a Savage. Gilbert Parker 

305. Mrs. Romney Rosa Nouchette Carey 

304. Columbus in Love . . George Alfred Townsend 
303. Waring’s Peril . . . Capt. Charles King, U.S.A. 

302. The First Plight Julien Gordon 

301. A Pacific Encounter . . . Mary E. Stickney 

300. Pearce Amerson’s Will. 

Richard Malcolm Johnston 

299. More than Hin Marion Harland 

298. The Hiss of Gold Kate Jordan 

297. The Doomswoman Gertrude Atherton 

296. The Martlet Seal. . . . Jeannette H. Walworth 

295. White Heron M. G, McClelland 

294. John Gray (A Kentucky Tale of the Olden Time). 

James Lane Allen 

293. The Golden Fleece .... Julian Hawthorne 
292. But Men Must Work . Rosa Nouchette Carey 
291. A Soldier’s Secret . Capt, Charles King, U.S.A. 
290. Roy the Royalist William Westall 

289. The Passing of Major Kilgore. 

Young E. Allison 

288, A Pair Blockade-Breaker , . T. C. De Leon 

287. The Duke and the Commoner. 

Mrs. Poultney Bigelow 

286. Lady Patty The Duchess 


285. Carlotta’s Intended . . . Ruth McEnery Stuart 
284. A Daughter’s Heart . Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron 
283. A Rose of a Hundred Leaves. Amelia E. Barr 
282. Gold of Pleasure . . . George Parsons Lathrop 

281. Vampires Julien Gordon 

280. Maiden’s Choosing . . . Mrs. Ellen Olney Kirk 
279. The Sound of a Voice . . Frederick S. Cozzeus 

278. A Wave of Life Clyde Fitch 

277. The Light that Failed . , Rudyard Kipling 
276. An Army Portia , Capt. Charles King, U.S.A. 
275. A Laggard in Love . Jeanie Gwynne Bettany 
274. A Marriage at Sea W. Clark Russell 

273. The Mark of the Beast. 

Katharine Pearson Woods 

272. What Gold Cannot Buy . . Mrs. Alexander 
271. The Picture of Dorian Gray . . Oscar Wilde 
270. Circumstantial Evidence . Mary E. Stickney 
269. A Sappho of Green Springs . . , Bret Harte 

268. A Cast for Fortune Christian Reid 

267. Two Soldiers .... Capt. Charles King, U.S.A. 
266. The Sign of the Pour .... A Conan Doyle 
265. Millicent and Rosalind . . Julian Hawthorne 

264. All He Knew John Habberton 

263. A Belated Revenge. Dr. Robt. Montgomery Bird 

262. Creole and Puritan T. C. De Leon 

261. Solarion Edgar Fawcett 

260. An Invention of the Enemy. W. H. Babcock 

259. Ten Minutes to Twelve . M. G. McClelland 
258. A Dream of Conquest . . General Lloyd Brice 
257. A Chain of Errors .... Mrs. E. W. Latimer 
256. The Witness of the Sun . . . Amelie Rives 

265. Bella-Demonia Selina Dolaro 

264. A Transaction in Hearts .... Edgar Saltus 

263. Hale-Weston M. Elliot Seawell 

251. Earthlings Grace King 

260. Queen of Spades, and Autobiography. E. P. Rof 
249. Herod and Mariamne. 

A Tragedy Am61ie Rives 

248. Mammon Maude Howe 

247. The Yellow Snake Wm. Henry Bishop 

246. Beautiful Mrs. Thorndyke. 

Mrs. Poultney Bigelow 

246. The Old Adam H. H. Boyesen 

244. The Quick or the Dead P . . . Am§lie Rives 
243. Honored in the Breach . . . Julia Magruder 
242. The Spell of Home. 

After the German of E. Werner. Mrs. A. L. Wister 
241. Check and Counter-Check. 

Brander Matthews and George H. Jessop 
239. The Terra-Cotta Bust . . Virginia W. Johnson 
238. Apple Seed and Brier Thorn. Louise Stockton 
237. The Red Mountain Mines. Lew Vanderpoole 

236. A Land of Love Sidney Luska 

236. At Anchor Julia Magruder 

234. The Whistling Buoy .... Charles Barnard 

232. Douglas Duane Edgar Fawcett 

231. Kenyon’s Wife Lucy C. Lillie 

230. A Self-Made Man M. G. McClelland 

229. Sinfire Julian Hawthorne 

228. Miss Defarge .... Frances Hodgson Burnett 
227. Brueton’s Bayou John Habberton 


SINGLE NUMBERS^ 25 CENTS. $3.00 PER YEAR, 

b 




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C HAMBERS’S ENCYCLOPEDIA is in use as a book of reference wherever the 
English language is known. The first edition of this great work was completed in 
1868. From this point for over twenty years a process of correction and revision 
was continued from year to year, thus bringing the information down to the latest 
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But this process of revising and altering could not be carried on indefinitely. Many 
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tinized, and the articles rewritten partially or entire, while new articles have been prepared 
to embrace all new subjects required by the progress of knowledge. 

This edition is consequently a new Encyclopaedia, comprising the latest information in 
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The extent and freshness of the revisions may be better understood when it becomes 
known that under the letter A are treated such recent discoveries as Argon ; under Agricul- 
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All editions of Chambers' s Encyclopcedia offered for sale in America and not bearing 
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In conjunction with the publishing house of J. B. Lippincott Company, of Philadelphia, we 
have recently completed the publication of the new Chambers’s Encyclopaedia, and upon this 
work years of labour and an immense sum of money have been expended. Our former editions 
of this work have been so favourably known, that the absence of an international copyright has 
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the books advertised as Chambers’s Encyclopaedia are mutilated and garbled reproductions of our 
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U. S., by J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, whose imprint it should always contain. 

W. & R. CHAMBERS (Limited). 


2 


J. B. Lippincott Company’s Spring Announcements. 

The Plan and Nature of Chambers’s Encyclopaedia. 

Among the multitudinous works of the kind, Chambers’s Encyclopaedia holds a recognized place of its 
own. It strives to be at once comprehensive, compact, accurate, lucid, readable, and handy for reference. 

It is expressly a Dictionary in One Alphabet. Under its appropriate head, information is given upon 
every subject which any intelligent man, woman, or child may have occasion to speak or think about. To 
save the necessity of looking through an exhaustive treatise in order to find, perhaps, a single fact, 
the various masses of systematic knowledge have been broken up, as much as is consistent with a separate 
explanation, into their constituent parts, and each part has a heading and an article of its own. One, there- 
fore, looks at once for information on the eye, for example, instead of referring to the article on Physiology* 
While a single subject is thus readily found, its relation to other subjects is not lost sight of, and 
copious cross-references are made to other heads with which it stands in natural connection. Thus, 
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Another feature is that at the close of important articles is given a list of standard works which the 
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LIPPINCOTT’S 

GAZETTEER OF THE WORLD. 

EDITION OF 1895. WITH MANY NEW REVISIONS, AND THE 
MOST RECENT CENSUS RETURNS. 


A Complete Pronouncing Gazetteer or Geographical Dictionary of the World, 
containing notices of over one hundred and twenty=five thousand places, with 
recent and authentic information respecting the countries, islands, rivers, mountains, cities, 
towns, etc., in every portion of the globe. Originally edited by Joseph Thomas, M.D., 
LL.D., author of Lippincott’ s Pronouncing Biographical Dictionary,” ^‘Thomas’s Pro- 
nouncing Medical Dictionary,” etc., etc. 

New Revised Edition. Amplified by a series of statistical tables, showing : I. The area 
and population and population per square mile of the natural and political divisions of the 
world. II. The growth or decline of the principal cities of the world as represented by 
their population at different dates. III. The area and population and population per square 
mile of the States as given in the census returns from 1790 to 1890. IV. The population 
of the counties of the several States in 1880 and 1890, and their area and population per 
square mile in 1890. V, The growth or decline of the cities, towns, boroughs, etc., of 
the States as exhibited by the census returns, 1870-1880 and 1880-1890. 

One Imperial Octavo Volume of nearly Three Thousand Pages. Library sheep, $8.00 net 
(reduced from $12.00) ; half Turkey, $10.00 net (reduced from $15.00) ; 
half Russia, $10.00 net (reduced from $15.00). 


I N the preparation of this edition of Lippi ncott’s Pronouncing Gazetteer of the 
World, not only have notices of a large number of new places been now for the first 
time included in its pages, — places that were unknown when former editions were issued, 
— but the contents of the entire volume have been subjected to such a thorough revision as, 
it is believed, will easily maintain for it the position, which it has so long occupied, of being 
without a rival among works of its class in the English language. Especially has it been 
the care of the editors, in the prosecution of their labors, to embody in the work such 
recent information as has lately been rendered available by the publication of the new 
census returns of our own and foreign countries and of other kindred works, and to so 
arrange this information that it will be practically useful for casual reference and con- 
venient for those who may desire to make a more thorough acquaintance with the minutiae 
of geographical facts. 


“ No library of reference is complete without this 
great work.” — Cincinnati Enquirer. 

“ Judging from the inspection of a number of 
articles, the revision has been very systematic and 
thorough.” — New York Tribune. 

“The library of the teacher or the school could 
not have a more useful book of reference than 
‘ Lippincott’s Gazetteer of the World.’” — 
New York School Journal. 

“ It is the foremost work of the sort in the- English 
language.” — Chicago Dial. 

“ The established reputation of ‘ Lippincott’s 
Gazetteer’ will be increased by the new edition of 
the famous work, which is creditable alike to the 
compilers and the publishers.” — Philadelphia In- 
quirer. 

“No school can get on without this book any 
more than without a clock.” — Boston Journal of 
Education. 


“ A work embracing so vast a number of particulars 
is one of the last to be credited with entire infalli- 
bility ; but the claims made for this new edition will, 
we think, be honored in a very large degree by those 
who have occasion to use it day after day. A gazet- 
teer, of all books, requires to be brought down as 
near to date as possible, and the multitude of persons 
who have heretofore pinned their faith to ‘ Lippin- 
cott’s Gazetteer,’ and not gone astray, will wel- 
come this new and revised edition.” — Boston Literary 
World. 

“ The most complete and reliable standard work, 
descriptive of the most important and unimportant 
sections and places of the universe, now published by 
any house. It is especially valuable to bankers in 
that it gives important statistics of every town, city, 
county, and state of this country, showing the re- 
sources of each. To investors and dealers in munici- 
pal bonds and like securities it is indispensable.” — 
The New York Book Buyer. 


4 


J. B. Lippincott Company’s Spring Announcements. 

REDUCED ONE=THIRD IN PRICE. 


Lippincott’s 

Pronouncing Dictionary of 
Biography and Mythology. 

Containing Memoirs of the Eminent Persons of all Ages and Countries. 

By J. THOMAS, M.D., LL.D. 

New Edition. Thoroughly Revised and Greatly Enlarged. Complete in one imperial octavo 
volume of 2550 pages. Sheep, $8.00 net; half Turkey, $10.00 net; half Russia, $10.00 net. 
Two Volume Edition. Sheep, per set, $10.00 net; half Turkey, $12.00 net. 


T his valuable work, which for more than fifteen years has been in its department 
without a rival in the estimation of scholars, has lately undergone such a complete 
revision as the lapse of time since its first issue rendered necessary, and is now 
offered to the public in a greatly enlarged and improved volume, extending to 2550 pages, 
and embracing, besides the revisions of old articles, several thousand new biographical 
sketches, many of them constructed from original data, and now for the first time appearing 
in print. It embraces the following peculiar features : 

I. An Introduction, with Remarks on the Arabic, Chinese, Danish, Dutch, French, 
German, Greek, Hebrew, Hindostanee, Hungarian, Italian, Norwegian, Oriental, Persian, 
Polish, Portuguese, Russian, Sanscrit, Spanish, and Swedish Languages. II. Great Com- 
pleteness and Conciseness in the Biographical Sketches. III. Succinct but Comprehensive 
Accounts of the More Interesting Subjects of Mythology. IV. A Logical System of 
Orthography, showing the English Spelling of the names of those Personages whose Native 
Languages are not in Characters Corresponding with the English Alphabet, together with 
the Spelling of the same in the Principal European Languages. V. The Accurate Pronun- 
ciation of the names, according to the Principles of the Languages in which they were 
Written. VI. A Vocabulary of Christian Names, embracing the leading English Christian 
Names, with their equivalents in the various European Languages. VII. A Table of 
Disputed or Doubtful Pronunciations. VIII. Full Bibliographical References. 


“ Lippincott’ s Biographical Dictionary, according 
to the unanimous opinion of distinguished scholars, 
is the best work of the kind ever published.” — Phil- 
adelphia Ledger. 

“ The most comprehensive and valuable work of 
the kind that has ever been attempted. . . . An in- 
valuable convenience.” — Boston Evening Traveller. 

“The most valuable contribution to lexicography 
in the English tongue.” — Cincinnati Commercial 
Gazette. 

“ This work presents a very wide range of treat- 
ment, great compactness and perspicuity, wonderful 
accuracy, and a typographical execution that is abso- 
lutely perfect.” — New York Evening Post. 

“ An admirable work.” — New York Independent. 

“ A work of extraordinary value.” — Boston Post. 

“ The plan is admirable.” — New York Tribune. 

“ I find that my high expectations of its excel- 
lence, founded on my knowledge of the admirable 
qualifications of its editor, are not disappointed. In 
the judicious brevity of its articles, the comprehen- 
siveness of its selections of topics, the nice exactness 
in matters of orthography and pronunciation, as well 
as for its admirable typography, it promises to take a 
very high place among our books of reference.” — 
Prof. Noah Porter. 


“ No other work of the kind will compare with 
it.” — Chicago Advance. 

“ It is a work which I shall be glad to possess, 
both on account of the fulness of its matter and 
because the pronunciation of names, so far as it can 
be represented by the alphabet of our language, is 
given. The work will be a valuable addition to the 
books of reference in our language.” — William 
Cullen Bryant. 

“ That so great a work has been produced in the 
English language, I am glad : that it is the product of 
American skill, enterprise, and learning, I still more 
rejoice. With regard to a book like this, the question 
with each one must be, not ‘ Can I afford it ?’ but 
‘ Can I afford to be without it?’ ” — S. Austin Allibone. 

“ There is nothing like it in the English language. 
... It may be fairly esteemed a credit to the age 
and country which have produced it.” — Philadelphia 
Press. 

“ It is universal in fact as in name, doing like 
justice to men prominent in science, literature, re- 
ligion, general history, etc. The author knows how 
to put a large number of facts into a very small com- 
pass, and in a manner remarkable for system, fair- 
ness, precision, and easy diction.” — Professor James 
D. Bana, M.A., LL.D. 


5 


J. B. Lippincott Company’s Spring Announcements. 

Chemistry for Engineers and Manufacturers. 

A Practical Text-Book. By Bertram Blount, F.I.C., F.C.S., Consulting Chemist 
to the Crown Agents for the Colonies, and A. G. Bloxam, F.I.C., F.C.S., 
Consulting Chemist, Head of the Chemistry Department, Goldsmith’s Institute, 
New Cross. With numerous Illustrations. Octavo. Cloth, $3.50. Kach 
volume complete in itself and sold separately. Volume I. — CHEMISTRY OF 
ENGINEERING, BUIEDING, AND METAEEURGY. 

GeneraIv Contents. — C hemistry of the Chief Materials of construction ; Sources of Energy ; 
Chemistry of Steam-raising ; Chemistry of Lubrication and Lubricants ; Metallurgical Processes 
used in the Mining and Manufacture of Metals. 

In writing this book the authors have had chiefly in view the needs of Practising Engineers, 
Managers of Works, and Technical Students desirous of obtaining some knowledge of Chemical 
Technology. 

In a book of this scope lengthy descriptions of plant and of processes which differ from each 
other merely in detail would be out of place. For this reason only such processes are described as 
are typical of the class to which they belong. 

The adoption of this plan has given opportunity for presenting the subjects dealt with in a 
manner which shows their relations to each other. The book will therefore prove useful even to 
the expert in any one of the subjects touched upon. In order to achieve this degree of usefulness, 
the authors have specially endeavored to explain the general principles underlying each process, 
even when the working details appear complex and arbitrary. 

Volume I. includes the chemical principles of subjects which are of particular interest to the 
Mechanical Engineer, to the Architect and Builder, and to all Manufacturers who are concerned in 
the erection of plant and the production of power. The information given is designed to be of so 
practical a character as will enable an owner of machinery or user of power to detect causes of bad 
economy, and to realize when saving may be effected by calling in expert assistance. 

In preparation. Volume II.— THE CHEMISTRY OF MANUFACTURING 
PROCESSES. 

General Contents.— S ulphuric Acid Manufacture ; Manufacture of Alkali, etc. ; Destructive 
Distillation ; Artificial Manure Manufacture ; Petroleum ; Lime and Cement ; Clay Industries and 
Glass ; Sugar and Starch ; Brewing and Distilling ; Oils, Resins, and Varnishes ; Soap and Candles ; 
Textiles and Bleaching ; Coloring Matters, Dyeing, and Printing ; Paper and Pasteboard ; Pigments 
and Paints ; Leather, Glue, and Size ; Explosives and Matches ; Minor Chemical Manufactures. 


A Manual of North American Birds. 

For Naturalist and Sportsman. Containing Concise Descriptions of every Species 
of Bird known in North America, and of many Allied Species in Mexico 
and Central America. By Robert Ridgway, Curator Department of Birds, 
U. S. National Museum. Second Edition, thoroughly Revised. Profusely illus- 
trated. Library Edition. Royal 8vo. Extra cloth, gilt, $7.50. Sportsman's 
Edition. Eeather, $7.50. 

This new edition of the “Manual” has been carefully revised up to the close of 1895, and in- 
cludes the characters of one hundred species and six genera which have been added to the North 
American bird-fauna since 1887. Various errors in the first edition have been corrected, several of 
the analytical keys having been entirely rewritten, explicit directions for the use of these keys, 
omitted in the first edition, are given, and to further facilitate the identification of specimens, 
all the additional matter included in the appendix is arranged in consecutive numbered para- 
graphs which correspond with marginal reference numbers in the body of the work, showing at 
a glance that if the specimens in hand cannot be identified from the main text, there is a further 
chance of doing so by referring to the proper paragraph in the appendix. 

6 


J. B. Lippincott Company’s Spring Announcements. 

How to Feed Children. 

A Manual for Mothers, Nurses, and Physicians. By Louise E. Hogan. Uniform 
with the Practical Lessons in Nursing Series. i2mo. Cloth, $i.oo. 

This book presents a comprehensive table of contents in reference to the selection, prepara- 
tion, and the administration of food for infants and growing children ; it covers the entire ground 
of dietetics in the nursery and for school, and cannot fail to be a valuable guide to those interested 
in the care of children. The language used is simple, free from technicalities, and can be readily 
understood by the average reader. The book has a two-fold purpose, — it simplifies the work of the 
physician by making specific the general laws of dietetics, and at the same time is written in such 
a manner as to explain to mothers much that has hitherto been left unexplained. Explanatory 
lists of the various classes of foods are given, menus for all ages, seasons, and conditions are pre- 
sented, and reasons and examples abound throughout the book. 

The chief strength of the book lies in its practical application of theory. Books hitherto on the 
subject of infant- and nursery -feeding have not appealed to mothers, as they were not presented 
from a mother’s stand-point. The author understands what is incomprehensible to the average 
mother, and also the difficulties met with by every one, under the best of circumstances, in the care 
of children, and she helps overcome them. 


A Text-Book of Mechanical Engineering. Second Edition. 

By Wilfrid J. Lineham, Head of the Engineering Department at the Goldsmith’s 
Company’s Institute, New Cross ; Late Professor of Engineering at the School 
of Science and Art and Technical College, New-Castle-on-Tyne ; Member of the 
Institution of Mechanical Engineers, etc. New Edition. Illustrated. Crown 
octavo. Cloth, $4.50. 

Mr. Lineham ’s long experience as a teacher of mechanical engineering suggested to him the 
desirability of writing a comprehensive work which would show the student the general lines on 
which their study as engineer apprentices should proceed. 

The work is divided into two parts. In Part I. the student makes a tour of the shops and is 
initiated into their mysteries. The method used is to first describe the tools, after that the general 
processes, and then a series of graduated examples of their application. Part II. treats of all of 
the principal theories and investigations required by the engineering student, the Strength of Mate- 
rials coming first, followed by Energy and Kinematics ; these all assist in the treatment of Prime 
Movers worked by gases or liquids. 

The numerous figures in the text and the large folding plates are well detailed examples of 
modern mechanism. 

Contents. — Part I. Workshop and Practice. Chapter I. Casting and Moulding. II. 
Pattern Making and Casting Design. III. Metallurgy and Properties of Materials. IV. Smithing 
and Forging. V. Machine Tools. VI. Marking-off, Machining, Fitting, and Erecting. VII. 
Boiler Making and Plate Work. — Part II. Theory and Examples. Chapter VIII. Strength 
of Materials, Structures, and Machine Parts. IX. On Energy and the Transmission of Power to 
Machines. X. On Heat and Heat Engines. XI. Hydraulics and Hydraulic Machines. 


The Chemical Analysis of Iron. 

A Complete Account of all the Best- Known Methods for the Analysis of Iron, Steel, 
Pig-Iron, Iron Ore, Limestone, Slag, Clay, Sand, Coal, Coke, and Furnace and 
Producer Gases. By Andrew Alexander Blair, Graduate United States Naval 
Academy, 1866 ; Chief Chemist United States Board appointed to test Iron, 
Steel, and other Metals, 1875 ; Chief Chemist United States Geological Sur^^ey 
and Tenth Census, 1880 ; Member American Philosophical Society, etc. New 
(Third') Edition in preparation. 


7 


J. B. Lippincott Company’s Spring Announcements. 


The Making of Pennsylvania. 

An Analysis of the Elements of the Population and the Formative Influences that 

Created one of the greatest of the American States. By Sydney George 

Fisher, B.A. i2mo. Buckram, $1.50. 

A New Departure in Writing State History, containing chapters on the early Dutch 
and Swedes, the Quakers and their origin, the Germans, the Moravians, the Scotch-Irish Presby- 
terians, the Church-of-England people, the Welsh, and the people from Connecticut These were 
the incongruous elements that made up the population of the State, and the history of each is 
given more completely, thoroughly, and briefly than has ever been done before. It also describes 
three important controversies carried on for many years, which are part of the making of the 
State, because they threatened to affect very seriously its boundaries and size, namely. The Con- 
necticut Claim and the controversies with Maryland and Virginia about the southern and western 
boundaries. 

Poetical Works of Robert Burns. 

Edited by Jas. A. Manson. With Notes, Index, Glossary, and Biographical 

Sketch. Two volumes. i2mo. Cloth, $ 2 . 00 . 

“The centenary of Burns is now ‘on,’ and his admirers will find much satisfaction in the 
uncommonly pretty two-volume edition of the poems just brought out. Mr. James A. Manson 
proves a judicious editor, refraining from overloading the notes, which are relegated to the rear of 
volume II., along with the glossary and index to first lines, and furnishing a sufficient introductory 
sketch. There is no embellishment besides the typography, which is elegant and not trying to the 
eyes.” — New York Nation. 

“ This is a delightful little edition of Burns.” — Dumfries a7id Galloway Standard. 

“The get-up is everything that a book-lover could wish in a pocket edition.” — Kilmarnock 
Standaf'd. 

“ The books will please all who desire to have a Burns of convenient size.” — Glasgow Evening 
Times. 

“ In all respects is worthy of the highest commendation.” — Aberdeen Free Press. 

“The volumes are such a treat to handle and read that they are certain to be popular.” — Glas- 
gow Herald. 

“Mr. James A. Manson, the editor, has written a biographical introduction, in which he takes 
a temperate and common-sense view of the poet. He is evidently himself a profound lover of 
Burns, yet he defends the bard from the rancorous attacks of some of the critics with judicial calm- 
ness.” — Dundee Advertiser. 

The Little Gods of Grub Street. 

A Satire. By Eric Mackay. i2mo. Paper, 35 cents. 

Arrows of Song. 

By Eric Mackay. i6mo. Cloth, $ 1 . 00 . 

The publication in this country of two new books of verse by Brie Mackay is an event in the 
annals of poetry. Mr. Mackay is a poet of original talent who has made many friends by his gifts 
and many enemies by his outspoken sentiments, which often run counter to contemporary judgments 
in letters and art ‘ ‘ The Little Gods of Grub Street” is a spicy tilt at the “ half emperors and quarter 
emperors” of the English Parnassus, from Swinburne down to Le Gallienne. “ Arrows of Song” is 
a collection of original poems containing the last representative work of its author. Mr. Mackay 
is further notable as the brother of Marie Corelli, who considers him “ one of the sweetest of the 
English singers.” 

The Eye and its Care. 

By Frank Allport, M.D., Professor of Clinical Ophthalmology and Otology in the 

Minnesota State University ; President of the Minnesota State Medical Society ; 

Secretary of the Ophthalmological Section of the American Medical Associa- 
tion, etc, etc. In press. 

8 


J. B. Lippincott Company’s Spring Announcements. 


WORKS OF F16TION. 

Just Published. 

BY LOUIS BECKE. 

The Ebbing of the Tide. 

By the author of “By Reef and Palm,” Large i2mo. Cloth extra, $1.25. 

The few following opinions of leading critics show to^some slight extent the interest that his 
first volume excited. 

“The stories are brief, pointed, passionate, beautiful, and while unconnected in character and 
place, still combine in an atmosphere of tropical glow which fuses all together.” — Chicago Times. 
“In its way the book is remarkable.” — Congregationalist. 

“ What Kipling has done for India, Mr. Becke can do for the Pacific Islands.” — Chicago Inter- 
Ocean. 

“ With all Kipling’s intense description and deep reflection, and none of Kipling’s bumptious- 
ness. ’ ’ — Brooklyn Eagle. 

BY MRS. ALEXANDER. 

A Fight with Fate. 

By the author of “The Wooing O’t.” i2mo. Cloth, $1.25. 

Mrs. Alexander’s novels are decidedly of the higher order. They reflect the lives and sayings 
of wholesome people, carry a healthy moral, and convey valuable lessons to enlightened readers.” 
— St. Louis Globe-Democrat. 

“This is Mrs. Alexander’s best story, and readers of her two previous novels, ‘For His Sake’ 
and ‘ Found Wanting,’ will at once recognize this as high praise. It is an English story. The plot 
is good, is skilfully developed ; the dialogue is bright, the situations, many of them, dramatic. On 
the whole, it is a bright, entertaining novel, and one of the best of the season.” — Boston Advertiser. 


BY HARRIET RIDDLE DAVIS. 

In Sight of tbe Goddess. 

A Tale of Washington Life. By the author of “ The Chapel of Base,” etc. Issued 
in the Lotos Library. Illustrated. i6mo. Polished buckram, 75 cents. 

A tale of excellent merit and remarkable interest. It is a story of society and official life in 
Washington, and a very charming love story, entirely out of the rut of mere conventionality. 
The hero and heroine are both strongly drawn characters, and the bright interest of the story is 
unflagging to the happy ending. 


BY FLORENCE BELKNAP GILMOUR. 

In Quest of tbe Ideal. 

A Novel. Translated from the French of Leon de Tinseau, author of “ A Forgotten 
Debt,” etc. i2mo. Cloth, $1.25. 

The same translator has already put into English one of M, de Tinseau’s novels, and has done 
it well. The style is less foreign than in most translations. One does not encounter oddities of 
expression which make the reading rough and give the feeling of tediousness. In the present case, 
the translation and the original in the French come out at the same time, so that the American 
edition is as new and fresh as the other. The people that do not know French will not have to 
listen to comments by the more learned and wait for their turn to come. 


9 


J. B. Lippincott Company’s Spring Announcements. 

BY “THE DUCHESS.” 

An Unsatisfactory Lover. 

By the author of ‘ ‘ The Three Graces, ” “A Point of Conscience, ’ ’ etc. In Lippincotf s 
Series of Select Novels for April, 1896. i2mo. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 

Mrs. Hungerford can easily claim envied rank as a writer of colloquial literature. She pos- 
sesses the gift of creating or reporting conversation in a singular degree. There is no sign of hesi- 
tation, no bridging over gaping chasms in the game of give and take, no show of a limited supply 
of repartee, but it is all sparkle, brightness, surprises, stimulation, wit, and humorous turn. 


Recently Issued. 

BY JOSEPH HATTON. 

When Greek Meets Greek. 

By the author of “By Order of the Czar,” “ The Banishment of Jessop Blythe,” etc. 
With ten full-page illustrations by Clinedinst. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 

“The present story is one that is calculated to stir the deepest feelings that enter into human 
experience. It is of the masterly order, and therefore will confidently command readers even 
while Inviting them. ’ ’ — Boston Courier. 

“The Greek who meets Greek is the Frenchman who meets Frenchman, and the war is the 
French revolution, a bloody chapter in history which is the foundation of many romances. 

‘ ‘ Mr. Hatton catches the spirit of this stirring epoch, and constructs a tale which has a horrible 
fascination in its narrative of crimes and cruelties, and a sweet charm in its portrayal of the stead- 
fastness of virtue, the constancy of loyalty, and the immutability and ultimate triumph of holy 
love.” — New York Home Journal. 

‘ ‘ The story is as fresh and original as though the revolutionary mine had never been worked ; 
and from the opening chapter to the happy ending the most exciting events follow each other 
rapidly with an intensity of unsurpassed interest. The whirl of the bloodthirsty madness of the 
September massacres is described with matchless brilliancy and with as much delicacy as is possible 
with the horrible scenes that are depicted. Mr. Hatton has given us one of the best novels founded 
upon the French Revolution that we have ever read, and the love episodes are very delightful.” — 
Boston Home Journal. 


BY ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY. 

Mrs. Romney. 

By the author of “The Old, Old Story,” etc. In LippincotV s Series of Select Novels 
for February, 1896. i2mo. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 

“ This is one of the most sweetly romantic stories that has been published in some time. It 
is merely an episode, a pathetique^ but so full of human nature and the delineation of a long- 
cherished passion, smothered by reverse circumstances, and blended that it appeals to the tenderer 
compassions of the heart and arouses almost a protest against the wrong of fate.” — Lebanon 
Courier. 

“This story is written in the quiet, refined style that has characterized Miss Carey’s former 
books. It belongs to the class of books that may be termed ‘ safe’ to place in the hands of young 
people. It will interest grown persons also who like to read well-written stories that have in place 
of a plot the unfolding of a little ethical problem, accompanied by a moderate amount of agreeable 
love-making.” — New York Times. 

10 


J. B. Lippincott Company’s Spring Announcements. 

BY ELIZABETH PHIPPS TRAIN. 

The Autobiography of a Professional Beauty. 

By the author of “ A Social Highwayman.” Issued in the Lotos Library. Illus- 
trated. i6mo. Polished buckram, 75 cents. 

“ ‘The Autobiography of a Professional Beauty,’ is a story of an American woman educated in 
Paris, who makes her dbbut in society in London, and a dull page is not to be found in the story. 
There are several exciting scenes, — that of the ride after the hounds, and the hypnotic seance. 
The story ends happily, and that is also a satisfaction to the general reader. ’ ’ — Boston Times. 

“This is a profoundly interesting love-story. Its plot is simple, natural, and lifelike — often 
approaching the tragic. The dangers from the abuse of the powers of hypnotism are strikingly 
illustrated. ’’ — Chicago Inter-Ocean. 

BY COCKBURN HARVEY. 

The Light that Lies. 

With decorations in the text and seven full-page illustrations by F. McKernan. 
i6mo. Cloth, 75 cents. 

“ A captivating little book.” — Detroit Tribune. 

“The humor is droll and sharp, the situations are admirably drawn.’’ — Philadelphia Evening 
Bulletin. 

“The narrative is to be commended for its agreeable lightness and its unforced humor. The 
egotism and stupidity of Mr. Merton are very happily expressed ; the manner in which his best-laid 
plans ‘ gang aft a-gley’ is exceedingly droll ; and the story of his heart-history is presented in a 
very enticing form.’’ — New York Times. 

“ A story bright with sparkling dialogue. It is all froth and nonsense, but it never descends to 
drivel, and is very witty. There is not a little art concealed in the simple commonplace utterances 
of his amusing characters. Desultory conversation is something hard to catch and fix, the spirit is 
generally killed in the process of putting it between book covers, but this writer catches it as it 
comes from the lips. Certainly the author of ‘ The Light that Lies’ is agreeably clever, and in this 
unpretentious little sketch he succeeds in giving a refreshingly bright bit of reading.’’ — Chicago 
Evening Post. 

BY ADELINE SERGEANT. 

The Failure of Sibyl Fletcher. 

In Lippincotf s Series of Select Novels for March, 1896. i2mo. Paper, 50 cents; 
cloth, $1.00. 

“ This new novel by Adeline Sergeant, whose previous works have attracted more than usual 
attention, is a story of English life, and is a fascinating study of character. The plot is original, 
is ingeniously developed, the dialogue bright and sparkling, and the situations artistically arranged. 
On the whole it is one of the best of select novel series.’’ — Boston Advertiser. 

In Preparation. 

BY EFFIE A. ROWLANDS. 

A Faithful Traitor. 

By the author of “ My Pretty Jane,” ” The Spell of Ursula,” etc. 

BY JOHN STRANGE WINTER. 

The Truth-Tellers. 

By the author of “Only Human,” “The Other Man’s Wife,” “Aunt Johnnie,” 
etc. In Lippincotfs Series of Select Novels for May, 1896. i2mo. Paper, 50 
cents ; cloth, $1.00. 


11 


JUST PUBLISHED, A NEW COPYRIGHT NOVEL 

THE MIGHTY ATOM 

By MARIE CORELLI 

Uniform with ^The Sorrows of Satan/^ ^^Barabbas/^ and ^^Cameos.^^ Large J2mo* 

Buckram, $1*25 

T here is no question that Marie Corelli is one of the strongest writers now 
living. She is endowed with a wonderfully clear and vigorous imagination, 
the prime qualification for a novelist, and yet, strangely enough, one in which 
so many novelists of the present day are sadly deficient. This of itself gives 
her stories a sweep and power seldom attained, and although she does write with a 
purpose, it is never obtruded upon the reader. Her ‘ ‘ Barabbas ’ ’ made a most pro- 
found sensation, and it is unquestionably one of the strongest, most graphic, and 
most vivid books of this decade. Her ‘ ‘ Sorrows of Satan ’ ’ is another romance of 
thrilling, almost startling, power. In this new novel she has chosen a subject of 
remarkable interest, and has treated it in a most individual and stimulating way. 


OTHER NOVELS BY MARIE CORELLI 


Cameos 


By MARIE CORELLI. i2mo. Buckram, $i.oo 

’ “ Marie Corelli possesses a charm as a writer that 
perhaps has never been better displayed than in 
her recent work, ‘Cameos.’” — Burlington Hawk- 
Eye. 

“ As long as Miss Corelli can write stories like 
these she will not lack readers. In this volume she 
gpves new and convincing proof of versatility, 
spirit, tenderness, and power.” — Chicago Tribune. 


Barabbas : 


Vendetta : 

Or, The Story of One Forgotten 

By MARIE CORELLI. i2mo. Cloth, $i.oo 

” The sto^ is Italian, the time 1884, and the pre- 
cise stage of the acts, Naples, during the last visita- 
tion of the cholera. A romance, but a romance of 
reality. No mind of man can imagine incidents so 
wonderful, so amazing, as those of actual occur- 
rence.” — Washington National Republican. 


A Dream of the World's Tragedy TThc SotTOWS of Satan ; 


By MARIE CORELLI. i2mo. Buckram, $1.00 

During its comparatively brief existence this 
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FOR SALE BY ALL BOOKSELLERS 




12 


LIPPINCOTT'8 MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 



MRS. BURNETT’S NEW NOVEL. 

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13 



LIPPIXCOTT'S MAGAZINE ADVERTISER 


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EDUCATIONAL. 


Pennsylvania, Philadelphia. 

A Thorough French and English Home School 

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J- Lippincott Company, Publishers, 

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15 



LIPPINCOTTS MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 





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LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 



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19 , 




LIPPINCOTTS MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 



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LIPPINCOTTa MAGAZINE ADVERTISER, 




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LIPPJNCOTT'S MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 



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LIPPINCOTTS MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 


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24 


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LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 






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^choverlino DAl/£»Odt0S 
30 2 B*Jwo.y, N Y. 



REPRESENTAT IVE BlCyCLE. 1 

lUustrated Catalogue Free. 

BRANCHES : 

185 Wabash Ave., Chicago, 111.: 1217 Bedford Ave., 
Brooklyn, N. Y.; 1013 Olive St., St. Louis, Mo.; 567 Broad 
St., Newark, N.J.: 71 Whitehall St., Atlanta, Ga.: 12 Park 
Square, Boston, Mass.; 316 Western Boulevard, N. Y* 
Connecticut Ave., N. W., Washington, D. C. 


25 



LIPPINCOTT'8 MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 



of Philadelphia is the magnificent I^cdciin^ Term in 3.1 at 
Market and Twelfth Streets. This is universally regarded as being, all 
things considered, the most superb passenger railway station in the 
world. Unlike other celebrated structures of its class, it is not a 
“union depot,” being used entirely and exclusively by the trains of 
the great Reading Railroad System. 

It is conceded that, in point of construction, equipment, and efficiency 
and safety of operation, the “Royal Reading Route” between Phila- 
delphia and New York has no superior among American railways ; and 
the “ Royal Route to the Sea,” between Philadelphia and Atlantic City, 
no equal among seashore lines. 


And, moreover, the Reading Railroad, with its numerous ramifications 
and connections, forms the most direct and desirable means of travel 
between New York, Philadelphia, and all interior Pennsylvania points, 
reaching such important centres as Bethlehem, Allentown, Wilkes- 
Barre, Scranton, Reading, Harrisburg, Gettysburg, Pottsville, Shamokin, 
and Williamsport. 

Before setting out upon a journey, OOYAL reading 

Ivailroad route. 


I. A. SWEIGARD, 
General Superintendent. 

26 


C. G. HANCOCK, 
General Passenger Agent. 


LIPPINCOTT’S MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 


Remington $tan(lar(l 


fiDlstaftes 


I't purchase a ^96 wheel that 
tically a ^95 pattern. 


Don^t 
is practi( 

Don^t consider the color of enam- 
els and racing records of more value 
than mechanical merit. 

IReminoton 

Bicycles 

are fashionable, modest in appear- 
ance, simple in construction, but 
masterpieces of mechanical ingenuity. 

Catalogue free. 

IRemington Hrms Co. 

313-315 Broadway 
New York 

BRANCHES: 

New York, 59th St. and Grand Circle 
Brooklyn Boston San Francisco 




Bicycles are 

HONEST 
BICYCLES 

$7/rTO 

/ Worth 

$100 

Material ^ 
Construction ^ Unexcelled 
Finish ) 

...SEND FOR CATALOGUE... 

QUEEN QTY CYCLE CO. 
Buffalo, N. Y. 



I StlOW5 PCLVI5AS IT I^ST^ 
I Ofl Tut CHRISTY MOOLt ‘ 


CHRISTY 
SADDliEx, 





StKMPflVISASITM 
THtORDINARY SAODLt, 


¥S the only saddle built on purely ana- 
* tpmical principles, made from models 
furnished by a medical authority. The two 
cuts above illustrated prove at a glance that 
the perfect bicycle saddle has at last been 
found. The old style saddle, it is immaterial 
how it was made, or changed, or at what 
price it is sold, is injurious. It sags on the 
side and is sure to injure the rider. 

The Christy Saddle is made of metal. It 
is firm and cannot warp. It cannot be 
strained. It has large cushioned pads that 
receive the pelvis and sustain the weight of 
the body. It does away with all injurious 
effects. No chafing, stiffness or soreness if 
the Christy Anatomical Saddle is fitted to 
your bicycle. 

A. G. SPALDING & BROS. 

NEW YORK 
CHICAGO 
PHILADELPHIA 

CA TALOGUE FREE. 




27 




LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 






SPEND THE SUMMER AT 

Deer Park 


On the Crest of the Alleghanies. 
3000 Feet above Tide-Water . ♦ . 


Season Opens June 22, 1896 


^*T^HIS famous mountain hotel, situated at the summit of the 
Alleghanies, and directly upon the main line of the Balti- 
more and Ohio Railroad, has the advantage of its splendid vesti- 
buled express train service both East and West, and is therefore 
readily accessible from all parts of the country. All Baltimore 
and Ohio trains stop at Deer Park during the season. There are 
also a number of furnished cottages with facilities for house- 
keeping. 

The houses and grounds are supplied with absolutely pure 
water, piped from the celebrated “Boiling Spring,’’ and are 
lighted by electricity. Turkish and Russian baths and large 
swimming pools are provided for ladies and gentlemen, and suita- 
ble grounds for lawn tennis ; there are bowling alleys and billiard 
rooms ; fine riding and driving horses, carriages, mountain wagons, 
tally-ho coaches, etc. , are kept for hire ; in short, all the necessary 
adjuncts for the comfort, health, or pleasure of patrons. 


por Terms 



apply to 

GEO. D. DeSHIELDS, 

Manager Baltimore and Ohio Hotels, Cumberland, Md., up to 
June JOth ; after that date, Deer Park, Garrett County, Md* 





LIPPINCOTT'8 MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 



J-JARTFORD Single -Tube 
Tires are the standard sin- 
gle-tubes* Their success has 
caused a host of imitations* 
But who will have imitations 
when he can have the genuine? 

■ F IT’S A HARTFORD TIRE IT'S RIGHT. 


The Hartford Rubber "Works Co* 

New York, Chicago. HARTFORD, CONN. 



# Palmer Fabric 




•7(i‘ 

Mk 
dk 
dk 
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Mk 
dk 

•^T^ 

dk 
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Makes a Tire ELASTIC 

EASY RIDING and 
FAST 

(taking less strength to propel) 


dk 

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d.k 

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Palmer 

Tims 


dk 

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dk 

^k^ 

dk 

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• 718 - 


Are Durable, GUARANTEED 

and Easy to Mend* 

They are expensive, and 

only found on High-Grade Wheels* 

PALMER PNEUMATIC TIRE CO* 
CHICAGO* 

Facta About Pneumatic Tirea 
mailed on requeat. 


W 

dk 

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djk 

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They Have a Tone 
ThaVs All Their Own, 

This cut illustrates the 
mechanism of one of our 
Bicycle Bells. Very sim- 
ple, perfect, and cannot 
get out of order. Only one of i6 
different styles. The standard 
of excellence the world over. 
Send postal for booklet to the 
New Departure Bell Co. Bristol, Conn.U.S. A 


WE HAVE NO AGENTS 



W. B. Pratt, Sec’y. 


but sell direct to the consumer 
at wholesale prices. Ship any- 
where for examination before 
sale. Eve^thing warranted. loo 
styles of Carriages, 90 styles of 
Harness, 41 s^les of Riding 
Saddles. Write for catalogue. 

Elkhart Carriage and 
Harness Mfg* Co., Elkhart, Ind. 



H M M M Cut tbU out and Mud to.d »7 for oat. 
h ■■ ■* ■■ alogue. Bioyolea from $15 to $60. 
I 1 1 b k You rare 50 per cent if you t><tT A 
iHIGH GRADE OXFORD. Shipped direct from 
[factory. Don’t pay agents’ and deaten* profit. 
Oxford Mdse. Co. 338 Wabash Ave. Chicago. 


EARN A BICYCLE! 

- - We wish to introduce our Teas, Spices, 

' Baking Powder. Sell 76 Ids. to 
earn a Bicycle ; 60 lbs. for a 
Waltham GoldWatch and 
\ Chain: 26 lbs. for a Solid 
IBilver Watch and Chain; 
/lOlbs. for a beautiful Gold 
Ring; 60 lbs. for a Deco- 

^ _ f rated Dinner Set. Express 

prepaid if cash is sent with order. Send your full address 
on postal for Catalogue and Order Blank. 

"W. G. BAKHR, Springfield, NIass. 



Liberal Views 

on the 

Bicycle Question 

Right Prices 
on the 

Bicycle in Question The Hawthorne 

— highest grade that can be — $65. Others, good enough 
for most riders, $46 and less. Other Bicycles may be as 
good as THE HAWTHORNE, none can be any better. Our 
word for that. Do you care to pay $26 or $36 more for a whee 1 
upon which higher praise could not be bestowed justly, 
than to say “It is as good as ‘The Hawthorne’?*. If not, 
send for our Catalogue “M,”a beautifully illustrated and 
typographically perfect book, that tells only of bicycles 
and cycling sundries, and tells ALL about them. We’ll 
mail it free for the asking > 

MONTGOMERY WARD & CO. ^ 

III to Ii6 Michigan A ve. • - CHICAGO 


No Fire, Smoke, or Heat, Absolutely Safe. Send for Catalog 



TBUSCOTT BOAT MFG. CO., Drawer Q, St. Joseph, Michigan 


A Slick 
Bike Chain 


Makes less work and more fun. 
Use DIXON’S No. 691 CYCLE 
CHAIN GRAPHITE, the slick- 
est chain lubricant ever made. 

Sample stick mailed for 10 cents. 

Jos. Dixon Cmeible Co., Jersey City, N. J. 


29 



LIPPINCOTTS MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 



Manufactory Established 1761. 


LEAD PENCILS, COLORED PENCILS, SLATE PENCILS, WRITING SLATES, 
STEEL PENS, GOLD PENS, INKS, PENCIL CASES IN SILVER AND 
IN GOLD. STATIONERS’ RUBBER GOODS, RULERS, 

COLORS AND ARTISTS’ MATERIALS. 


78 Reade Street, - - New York, N. Y. 


MANUFACTORY ESTABCISHEO 1761. 
GOODS SOLD BY ALL STATIONERS. 



„ ParkHPS" 

_ HAIR BALSAM 

Ciesnsea and beaatiflea the halx; 
Promotea a laxuiiant growth. 
Never Fails to Restore Gray 
Hair to its Youthful Color. 
Cures Bcalp diseases & hair falling. 


_ HINDERCORNS. 

The only sure Cure for Corns. Stops all pain. Ensures corn* 
fort to tne feet. Makes walking easy. Ucts. at Druggists. 


A Little BooK 
^ about a Bij City” 

^ in Addison Archer's most interesting style, 
telling sight-seers, pleasure -seekers, and 
gS shoppers how to make the most of a visit to 
^ the metropolis— just issued— sent free by 


^Westminster Hotel, I6thSt. and Irving FI., N.Y. 


m 

m 

m 

m 

m 

m 

m 

m 

m 

m 

m 

m 


Warren White Sulphur Springs 

VIRGINIA 

The Oldest Summer Resort in the United States 

ESTABLISHED 1734 
TERMS 

Per week, one person . . $15.00 Per month, one person . . $40.00 
Two persons in one room, $70.00 
Special rates to parties of three or more 

GOOD FISHING, BOATING, and BATHING 

Distance from Southern R. R., i mile; Norfolk and Western R. R., 3 miles; 
Baltimore and Ohio R. R., 4 miles. 

Eight diflferent waters, namely : White, Red, and Blue Sulphur, Alum, Iron, Arsenic, 
Chalybeate, and Eithia. 

On top of the “Three Top Range” of the Masamitten Chain of Mountains. Elevation 
2,100 feet above the sea. No mosquitoes, gnats, or malaria. Address 

OPEN ALL THE YEAR C. W. CULLEN & SON, Cullen P. O., Virginia 

Mineral Waters for sale by all first-class druggists. $4.00 per case of six bottles. 


m 

m 

m 

m 

m 

m 

m 

m- 

m 

m 


30 



LIPPINCOTTS, MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 





Rubber Stamp Tnvs 

Comical or Brownie Sets No. 1, * ^ J “ 
contains 6 figures, 15c. No. 2, 10 figures, 25c« 
Magic Clown Circus, 16 large figures, 60c. Rub- 
ber Type, five alphabets, 2.5e., all with suitable Ink 
and pad, mailed on receipt of money. Circulars free* 
iiCUWAAB STAMP & SEAL CO., MILWAUKEE, WIS. 


Longstreet^s Memoir. 

FROM 

MANASSAS 

TO 

APPOMATTOX. 

$ 

(GENERAL EONGSTREET was one of the 
leaders of the Confederate Army who ac- 
cepted the situation after Appomattox. He is a 
fair-minded man, a trained soldier, and incapable 
of misrepresentation. His book is a worthy con- 
tribution to history, and it is certain that nearly 
every veteran of the Union Army, who can afford, 
will purchase it. Sold to subscribers only. 



WHICH CATALOGUE 


SHALL I 
SEND YOU? 


Mandolnis, Violins* Violin Musio 
Violin Cases Violin Bows 
BanJoSyBanJo Musio 
ICuitarSfCuitarMusio 
_ Flutes* Flute Musio 

Cornets* Cornet Music* Harmonicas. 
C. C. STORT* 26 Central Street* Boston* Mass. 



LIBERAL COMMISSIONS TO AGENTS. 


Send for circular and terms to salesmen. 

J. B. lilPPIflGOTT COlWPJlfiY, Publishers, 

PHILHDELPHIH. 


31 






A Terrible Temptation ; or, Misplaced Confidence.— Continued. 


WITH THE WITS. 



32 


r went inter a place wid so much contidence. 


LIPPINCOTT8 MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 


If you want a sure relief for pains in the back, side, 
chest, or limbs, use an 


Allcock’s 


Porous 

Plaster 


Bear in Mind — Not one of the host of counter- 
feits and imitations is as good as the genuine. 


BLINDNESS CAN BE PEEVENTED AND CURED. 

Treat the Cause of Diseased Eyes and Impaired Vision and Restore your Eyesight. 

iVo Knife! IVo Klsi'! 


The most successful and humane treatment in the world is the Absorption Treatment. 

It not only gives the patient a new lease of life, but cures and relieves many of the following diseases which have been 

pronounced incurable by leading oculists : Cataracts, Scars, Films, 
Paralysis, Glaucoma, Amaurosis, Atrophy of the Optic Nerve, De- 
tached Retina, Weeping Eyes, Tumors, Inflammation or Ulceration 
of the Eyes, Granulated Eyelids, and all diseases of a chronic na- 
ture. EVERYBODY should read our pamphlet, which is sent/ree 
to any address. It gives the cause of failing eyesight and diseased 
eyes, how prevented and cured at our Sanitarium or by mail. Address 



THE BEMIS SANITARIUM, Glens Falls, N. Y. 


THC BEMIS SANITARIUM AND ANNEX, GLENS FALLS, N. Y. 


Branch Office, 200 Columbus Avenue, 


BOSTON. 


PERMANENT PRK paid to men and ladies devoting 

all or part time soliciting orders for Ntirsery Stock. Good 
chance for advancement. EXPERIENCE UNNECESSARY. 

Brown Bros. Co., Rochester, N. or Chicago, 111. 


Trees and Plants 

From THE MOON Company, 



are the finest and best. 

Send for descriptive catalogue to tell you the rest. 

THE WM. H. MOON CO., 
Morrisville, Pa. 


Paper Cllppinxs bought!^ ^^%||#^^allkinci8, and Acquaint* 
ances names. $35. a thonl^ Km WW Wi^anrt. Particulars for 
■tamp. News Clipping Co. Dep’t. E.Z. 304 W. 139th St,. N. Y. 


ARNICA 


TOOTH 
SOAP 

Dellelona-Cleansing-Harmlesi 

OTH^RST^IT^TE! NONE EQUAL 1 

2Sc. ^1* druggists or by mail. C. H. STRONG & CO., Chicago. 


DEAF 


NESS & HEAD NOISES CURED. 

My Tubular Cushions help when all 
else falls. As glasses help eyes. Whis- 
pers heard. No pain. UTiaible. F* Hlscox, 853 ^<^ay 
New York, sole depot. Send for book and proofs FREE* 


MAGIC 


ILANTERNS WANTED IR/cVaVg? 

IhAR bach &C0.809FilbertSLPhila.Pa. 



The Landreth 
Seed Establishment 

is the oldest in this country. 


ESTABLISHED 1784. 


THEY OFFER 


AMERICAN PEDIGREE SEEDS 

of their own growing. Unsurpassed, if equalled, 
anywhere. Handsome illustrated catalogue free. 


Garden, Flower, and Field. 


DAVID LANDRETH & SONS, 

21 and 23 South Sixth Street, Philadelphia. 

33 




A Terrible Temptation; or, Misplaced Confidence.— Continued. 


WITH THE WITS. 



34 


Taker Est.— “Hello! what’s clis? A lost dog? I wonder could dis one be him? I’ll go see. 



LIPPINCOTT’S MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 




Embroidery 

Collars 


^ New, 



Can be worn with any style dress. Made 
of the most exquisite embroideries, at three 
prices, — 


$ 1 . 00 , 


are 


$1.25, and $1.50, — the same qualities 
selling generally for $2.00, $2.25, and $2.50. 
Postage prepaid. Money refunded, if de- 
sired. 

Strawbridge & Clothier, 

^ Dry Goods. Philadelphia. 

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

That Tired Feeling 

Caused by washing has been conquered 
by the Champion Washing Machine. 
Can sit down and run it. Kuns lighter 
and washes cleaner and faster than any 
machine on the market. C. H, Mills 
(Cyclone, Pa.) writes : “ I would not take 
$1000 for my side-gear washer if I could 
not get another. People come to my 
house to buy. Sell faster than I can get 
them. Send 24 machines at once.” 

We will sell at wholesale rates where 
we have no agents. 

Write for prices, mentioning this publication. 



CHAMPION MFC. CO., 

MIDDLETOWN, 


PA- 


new. 

Crankshaw Georgia Water-Melon Spoon 

THE SPOON OF THE CENTURY. 

Sterling silver, heavily gold-plated. 'I'he bowl beautifully 
enamelled in rich colors of a ripe water-melon, with picka- 
ninny’s head on handle. Tea and coffee size. Suitable for 
Birthday Gifts. No collection complete without this spoon. 

For sale by leading Jewellers throughout the United States. 
Charles W. Crnnkslinw, Jeweller, Atlanta, Georgia. 
Write for illustrated circular and prices. 





When Jack and Jill 
fell 
down 
the 
hiU, 

Jill got no bruises shocking i 
For CUPID Hair-Pins held her hair. 
And saved her head a knocking. 

It^s in the TWIST. 


Richardson & 
DeLong Bros., 
Philadelphia. 


Makers of the famous 
DeLong Hook and Eye. 




The Attention of Ladies 


is specially called to the 
numerous advantages of 


Selvyt 

Polishing Cloths 


99 

BRAND 


{.Trade-mark registered at Washington, Aug. 6,' 95,) 

Now being sold by all leading stores throughout the 
country, at 10 cents upwards, according to size. They 
entirely do away with the necessity for buying expen- 
sive wash or chamois leathers, which they out-polish 
and out-wear, never become greasy, and are as good 
as new when washed. Sold hemmed ready for use, 
and should he in the hands of all domestic and other 
servants. 

For sale by all Dry Goods Stores, Upholsterers, 
Hardware and Drug Stores, Cycle Dealers, etc. 

Wholesale enquiries should be addressed, 

“SeIiVYT,” 381 and 383 Broadway, New York. 


36 



LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 




44 


IVING” after, all means the enjoyment of creature 
comforts, and in these days of much travel if one 
does not choose his route with great care, much 
of the time he is not living, only existing. In this 
matter the elegantly equipped and superbly appointed 
trains of the 


WISCONSIN CENTRAL LINES 

connecting Chicago direct with all important points of 
the northwest are a revelation and a joy to the weary 
traveler. Through Palace Sleeping and Dining Cars. 
Send four cents for ‘‘Our Summer.’^ 


Jas. C. Pond, GenT Pass. Agt. C. L. Wellington, Traffic Mgr. 

MILWAUKEE, WIS. 








.THE 

Pennsylvania Company 

For Insurances on Lives and 
Granting Annuities, 

No. 517 Chestnut St., PHILADELPHIA. 

(TRUST AND SAFE DEPOSIT COMPANY.) 
Incorporated March 10, 1812. Charter Perpetual. 

UAPITAL . . r~ . . $3,000,000 
SURPLUS . . ^ . . 2,000,000 

Chartered to act as EXECUTOR, ADMINISTRA- 
TOR, TRUSTEE, GUARDIAN, ASSIGNEE, COM- 
MITTEE, RECEIVER, AGENT, etc.; and for the 
faithful performance of such duties all of its Capital 

and Surplus are liable. 

ALL TRUST INVESTMENTS ARE KEPT 
SEPARATE AND APART FROM THE ASSETS 
OF THE COMPANY. 

INCOME COLLEC TED A ND REMITTED. 
INTEREST ALLOW ED ON MONEY DEPOSITS. 

SAFES IN ITS BURGLAR- PROOF VAULTS 
FO R REN T. 

The protection of its Vaults for the preservation 
of WULLS offered gratuitously. 

Gold and Silver-Plate, Deeds, Mortgages, etc., re- 
ceived for safe-keeping under guarantee. 

HENRY N. PAUL, President. 

JARVIS MASON, Trust Officer. 

L. C. CLEEMANN, ASS’T TRUST OFFICER. 
JOHN J. R. CRAVEN, SECRETARY. 

C. S. W. PACKARD, Treasurer. 

WM. L. BROWN , Asst Treas urer. 

Lindley Smyth, William W. Justice, 

Henry N. Paul, Craige Lippincott, 

Alexander Biddle, Edward S. Buckley, 

Anthony J. Antelo, Beauveau Borie. 
Charles W. Wharton, Eugene Delano, 
Edward H. Coates, Edward Morrell, 
Robert M. Lewis. 


THE PALATINE INSURANCE CO,Lrd. 

OF MANCHESTER, ENGLAND. 
WILLIAM BELL and WILLIAM WOOD, 

Joint Managers. 

WM. M. BALLARD, Branch Secretary. 

21 Nassau Street. 

(Equitable Building) NEW YORK. 

UNITED STATES TRUSTEES: 
Gen’l LOUIS FITZGERALD, Chairman. 
Hon. ASHBEL GREEN. 

Hon. CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. 

Statement of U. S. Branch, January 1, 1896. 

ASSETS §-2,836 ‘236 2 S 

LIABILITIES. 

Unpaid Losses $ 34 ^, 77 ^ 69 

Reserve for Unearned Premiums . . 1,770,738 88 
Commissions, Brokerages, Return 

Premiums, etc 155.398 24 2,267,915 81 

Net Surplus $568,320 17 


36 




LIPPINCOTT'8 MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 



“Kombi” Camera 

Takeo 25 perfect pictures with one loading. 
Carry in pocket as easily as a watch. Cannot 
break. Not a toy but a practical scientific camera. 
So sim pie a boy or girl can take good pictures with 
it; sold by all dealers or sent prepaid (loaded for 
26) on receipt of price, 13. Send for Pree Photo- 
graphs and book “All About the Kombi.” We do devel- 
oplng. KOMBI CAMERA CO., 132 Lake Street, CHICAGO. 




POCO CAMERAS 

Are the smallest and most 

complete made. All Adjustments. 



ROCHESTER CAMERA MFC. CO., 

Z Aaueduct St.» Bochester, N. Y. 



IT Plays, I 

Sings and Speaks. I 

■ 

The ‘ ‘ Bijou’ ’ Graphophone is the greatest [ 
marvel of the age ! It is a full Band, Piano, 5 
Singer, Actor, Orator, Whistler, and can also! 
be made to repeat your own song or speech. 
Complete Musical Graphophone, . . $ 50 . 

FREE. — Illustrated booklet, and full infor- 
mation, if you mention “Lippincott’s.” 

WRITE THIS MINUTE! 

Agents wanted everywhere. 

We are manufacturing “Headquarters” for' 
the World. 

COLUMBIA PHONOGRAPH COMPANY, 

91 Pennsylvania Ave., Washington, D.C. 
Broadway, cor. 27th St., New York. 

110 E. Baltimore St., Baltimore, Md. E 




t 

I 

Hi 

I 

I 

tii 

1 

1 

1 

1 

I 

1 


Cameras 

ALL STYLES— LOWEST PRICES 
EVERYTHING PHOTOGRAPHIC 

At OUf -^ EW STORE 

Nos. 60 and 62 East 11th Street, 

(Five doors from Broadway.) 


n The Scovill Adams Co. of New- York. 

J W. I. LINCOLN ADAMS, President. - 

{ Send 35c. for a Sample Number of the Photographic Times, 1 
containing about too handsome photographic illustrations. 


I will trust you 
goods. Nomedi- 
for you SURE, 
of samples and 
postals. 


with 820 worth of 
cines. Big money 
Send 50c. for line 
particulars. No 

GEO. MALLORY, Randolph, Mo. 


Credit. 



COLORADO 



PYRITES RINGS 

In Sterling Silver,^ 1 .00 each* 
In Solid Gold, 13 each* 
Pos^aid on receipt of price. 

send for catalogue of fall 
line of Pyrites Jewelry. 

GEOBaE BELL, 

Lapidary and Alanf’g Jeweler, 
801, 11th St., DENVBB. COXi. 



Wooden Handle 

Until the Christy came, Bread Knives had always been made with 
a straight blade. But the wavy, scolloped edge is so much better, 
does the work so much easier, that no housekeeper, having once tried 
the Christy, would go back to the old style. It cuts hot, new bread 
as thin as old; cuts cake without crumbs, and meat without shreds. 
It was exhibited at the World’s Fair as the Model Bread Knife of the 
day. Miss Corson, Mrs. Ewing, Mrs. Borer, and other eminent au- 
thorities constantly recommend them. Our new ’95 Model, shown 
above, is the latest pattern, and has a wooden handle. Sold by 
dealers everywhere. Sent by mail, on receipt of 75 cents. 

CHRISTY KNjFE CO., Box M, Fremont, O. 


CAUTION! 

ALL GENUINE 
CHRISTY KNIVES 

HAVE THIS STAMP 
ON THE BLADE- ^ 

CHRISTY KNirE CO 

FATCNTCa 

rREMONT.O 

BEWARE OF 
^ITATIONS 


37 




WITH THE WITS. 



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LIPPINCOTT'8 MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 



Ayer’s 


9 ^ differs from all other earsaparillas 


as light differs from darkness. A 
dainty book, tells all about it. It is sent free on re- 

quest by J. C. Ayer Co Low- SarSaparilla. 
ell, Mass., makers of Ayer’s 



Why 


WE IDVERTISE 


It does seem singular, as most everybody 
uses them already, but— there are still a few 
people who imagine all spring rollers are the 
same. Therefore we advertise the fact that 
the Hartshorn Shade Roller is the one that is 
perfect, that its strength is lasting, that it 
works smoothly, pivots as freely as if on ball 
bearings and has unbreakable brackets. Don’t 
have some poor imitation palmed off on you, 
but see that you get _ 

the Genuine, with ^feHA RTSHORffS si^roiga^ 


the Stewart Harts- 
horn autograph on ^ 


rHE GENUINE 



The Lawton 
Simplex Printer 



saves time and labor — money, too. WO 
letters, postal cards, copies of music, draw- 
ings, or typewritten copy, in almost no 
time, and exact copies at that, by using 
the Lawton Simplex. Requires no wash- 
ing or cleaning, and saves its cost over 
and again in sending out notices. Costs 
but little ($3.00 to $10.06). 

Caution.— other ihtngs are being made and called 
Simple:*: Printers. The only way to be sure of getting the 
genuine is to see that yours is the Lawton Simplex Printer. 
Send for circulars. Agents wanted. 

LAWTON & CO,, 20 Vesey St., New York. 


have you been 
satisfied with 
the Playing Cards 
you have been 
using ? There have 
been so many poor 
cards put upon the 
market by new 
makers in the past 
few years, the ques- 
tion is constantly asked, ‘‘WHO 
MAKES THE BEST PLAY- 
ING CARDS?’* Old players 
will tell you 

“ANDREW DOUGHERTY,” 
who has been making cards since 
1848, whose goods are used all 
over the world, and are admitted 
to be the best playing cards made, 
having brands at prices to suit all 
purchasers. 

Andrew Dougherty is not 
connected with any other firm, 
company, or combination. 



39 


A Tebrible Temptation ; or, Misplaced Confidence.— Continued. 


WITH THE WITS. 



40 


Walker Pike.— “Dat’s what I calls a low-down trick. We’ll lay fer dat feller when he comes out.” 




LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 



THE NEW LIFE GIVER. 

The Original Oxydonor “ Victory” for Self-treat- 
ment, Supplies Oxygen to the blood, and cures dis- 
ease and pain under Nature’s own laws. Applied 
as in illustration. 

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T'w TJT o u j- j , r , , system was an unsolved problem to medical 

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No. l.-PRICE, $15.00-REDUCED FROM $25.00. 

No. 2.— PRICE, $25.00-LATEST, AND GREATLY IMPROVED. 

D«. H. Sanchb ■. Dtar Sir, -I have made aw of the Oxydoner for myself. meiheS’oTmy 'iily'SS.'aiflongre- 

gauon, and always With the same results,— SUCCESS,— not failed in a single instance. y > e 

r j. u X ' j- A- “ Vours respectfully. Rev. Augustus Frederick." 

Large book of information, and latest price-list mailed free. 

261 Fifth Avenue, New York City. 

61 Fifth St., cor. Fort, Detroit, Mich. 


DR. H. SANCHE, Discoverer and Inventor, 





A GRAND OFFER. 

Mine. A. Rnpperfs Face Bleach. 

MME. A. RUPPERT says : *‘ Know- 
ing that there are tens of thousands 
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would gladly try my Face Bleach, 
but have had some hesitancy In 
spending 82 for a bottle (or three 
bottles tor 85) to prove its wonderful 
merit. In order to prove to these 
ladies that FACE BLEACH Is all I 
claim for it, and that it will remove 
absolutely every disfigurement of the 
complexion, 1 will sell to every caller 
a trial bottle for 25 cts., and to those living outside the city, 
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or stampi. 

I hope that every lady in the land will embrace this 
generous offer at once. My book, ” How to be Beautiful," 
FREE. Call or send for it. Address all communications or 
call on MME. A. RUPPERT (Dept. Three). 6 East 14th St., 
New York City. Western Offlce, 235 State St., Chicago, Ills. 


DEAFNESS 

and Head Noises relieved by using 
Wilson's Common Sense Ear Drums. 

New scientific Invention; different 
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simple, comfortable and invisible 
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medical skill falls. No wire or string 
attachment. Write for pamphlet. 
WILSON EAR DRUM CO., 

nfflnABt 1147 Trust Bldg., Louisville, Ky 
umoesi ^ J J 22 Broadway, Jiew York. 




BAUTY 


Ladies express daily their gratification at the 
grand results obtained by the use of Dr. Camp- 
bell’s Safe Arsenic Complexion Wafers and 
Fould’s Arsenic Soap, the only real truebeau- 
tifiers in the world. Guaranteed perfectly 
harmless. Wafers by mail, 81 ; six large boxes, 
85. Soap, 50c. per cake. Address all orders to 
H. B. FOULD. 214 Sixth Ave., New York City. 

SOLD BY DRUGGISTS EVERYWHERE. 


^ MENNEN *5 BORATED TALCUM^ 

TOILET" 
POWDER 



FREE 


Approved by the highest medi- 
cal authorities as a Perfect San- ^ 
atory Toilet Preparation for in- ^ 
,fants and adults- Positively P 
'relieves Prickly Heat, Nettle ^ 
Rash, Chafed Skin, Sunburn, W 
etc. Removes Blotches, Pimples, ^ 
and Tan ; makes the skin smooth and healthy. Delight- ^ 
ful after sha ving. Decorated Tin Box, Sprinkler Top. 

Sold by Druggists or mailed for 25 cents. 
(Name this magazine.) Sample by mail. 
GERHARD MENNEN CO., Newark, N. J. 


In the part of France where I WM here, 

_ _ _ , ladies of every age have good complexions, 

the^ n^ver use~ cosmetics^ but a simple domesUo remedy prepared in nearly 
every household. There is nothing disagreeable in its application or harmful in its 
effects, and a change will be noticed in the skin in one day. When first discovered 
It was only supposed to bleach the skin, but the friction used in applying it 
ICATES WRINKLES and leaves the face firm A smooth. After a few applications 

Pimples, Tan, Blackheads and Sunburn 

win entirely disappear. During its use all powders and lotions are to be avoided, 
nothing being used but soft water and Oxtsaivts, for it is a process of cleansing, not 
covering up impurities. Full directions for use accompany Oxysai/ts — ^by malL 

One Month’s Treatment Only 25 cents, 

or for 60 cents I will send one month’s treatment and sell the recipe srith ftiU direc- 
tions for making and luing. Tou will then be able to prepare the Oxtsalts yourself 
at a cost of less than 20o a year. £. C. LaCOMBE, Station C., St. LoiUs, Mo. 


Au fait Cr^me. 


A disinfectant for the disagree- 
ab’e odors arising from soft, 
tender, and perspiring feet. 

Ladies will find it an excellent remedy for excessive per- 
spiration under the arms, where shields do no good. Price, 
$1.00 per tube. For full particulars, address 

PARISIAN CHEMICAL CO., 

Liberal discount to agents. 98 Qriswold St., Detroit, Mich. 


r 


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J Great English Remedy for 

j GOUT and RHEUMATISM. 

j SAF£, SURE, EFFECTIVE. 

1 Druggists, or 224 William St., New York, 

k v w r T T T T t v r r t r v v 





LIPPINCOTTS MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 




J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY’S 

Posters. 

PRICES SUBJECT TO CHANGE WITHOUT NOTICE, 

LIPPINCOTT’S MAGAZINE, August, 1894. By W. J. GLACKENS. (Out of print.) 

“ “ September, 1894. N. Y. ENG. & PRINTING CO. $1.00. 

“ “ October, 1894. “ “ (Out of print.) 

“ ** November, 1894. “ “ “ “ 

“ “ December, 1894, to November, 1895, inclusive. By 

WILL CARQUEVILLE. 50 cents each, or $5.00 
for complete sets. 

LIPPINCOTT’S MAGAZINE, 
December, 1895. ByJ. J. GOULD. 
30 cents. 

LIPPINCOTT’S MAGAZINE, 
January, 1896. By J. J. GOULD. 
25 cents. 

LIPPINCOTT’S MAGAZINE, 
February. By J. J. GOULD. 25 
cents. 

LIPPINCOTT’S MAGAZINE, 
March. ByJ. J. GOULD, ascents. 

LIPPINCOTT’S MAGAZINE, 
April. ByJ. J. GOULD, ascents. 



By J. J. Gould. 14 X 24 inches. 25 cents, post-paid. 


Current Numbers of 
Lippincott’s Magazine Posters 
10 cents, post-paid. 


LIPPINCOTT’S SERIES OF SE- 
LECT NOVELS, August, 1894. 
By PETER NEWELL. $1.00. 

LIPPINCOTT’S SERIES OF SE- 
LECT NOVELS, August, 189s. 
By W. CARQUEVILLE. (Rare.) 
$2.so. 

DRAGON OF WANTLEY. By 
JOHN STEWARDSON. (Out 
of print.) 

SORROWS OF SATAN. ByJ.J. 
GOULD. 2S cents. 


Sent, post-paid., upon receipt of price by the Publishers, 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, 

715 and 717 Market Street, Philadelphia. 


42 


L1PPINC0TT8 MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 



Two Souls 
with but a 
Singfle Thought 

And this the thought they had : There’s nothing in 
_ this wide, wide world like 

The Pasteur oSiy 

GERM pi|f^t*inthe 
PROOF r'llL'Cr yyoi-u 

for taking typhoid fever and other disease germs out 
of drinking water. 

The Pasteap-Chamberland Filter Co. Dayton, 0. 

EASTERN DEPARTMENT 119 S B ROADWAY, N. Y. 
CANADIAN DEPARTMENT e ADELAIDE ST. EAST. TORONTO, ONT. 
MEIICO DEPARTMENT IQNACIO CARRANZA, MEXICO, MEX. 

Sales Aobncibs. 

Mexico City, Ignacio Carranza. 


Baltimore, 301 N. Bow’d St 
Boston, 180 Washington SU 
Buffalo, Glenny’s. 

Chicago, 266 Dearborn St. 
Cincinnati, 602 Race St. 
Cleveland, 48 the Arcade. 
Columbus, 106 N. High. 
Denver, 826 Fifteenth St. 
Evansville, 213 Up 2nd St. 
Kansas City, 917 Walnut St. 
Milwaukee, 122 Grand Ave. 
Minneapolis, 329 H'pin Ave. 


New Orleans, 522 & 624 Common St. 
New York, 1193 Broadway. 

Omaha. 1321 Farnam St. 
Philadelphia, 3 S. 10th St, 
Pittsburg, 626 Penn. Ave, 
Richmond, Governor St. 

St. Louis, 1101 Olive St. 

San Francisco, 807 Market. 
Toronto, 6 Adelaide Street, Bast. 
Toledo, 210 Summit St. 
Washington, 1205 Penn. Ave. 


and by Druggists, Plumbers, and Dealers in Hardware 
and Household furnishing goods. 


FheJFAMI 






Beefsteak 
Tomato Ketchup 

Made from the whole fruit of this fam- 
ous brand of tomato, thereby imparting 
the exceptionally delicious and natural 
flavor alone found in this incomparable 
Ketchup. A liberal sample sent for five 
two-cent stamps. Address Box 3120 

»l CAMPBELL’S FRENCH PEAS our^siipervislon 

from seed imported annually, and packed with- 
out coloring while young and tender. Flavor 
superior to fresh peas. Order from your grocer. 


CAMDEN, NaJ. 


AN OXYGEN HOME REMEDY 



D?sl"leWITHOUT MEDICINE 

and oftentimes when 

ALL ELSE HAS FAILED. 

Its application enables the system to take 
on Oxy0en freely from the atmosphere. 
This addition of Nature’s Own Tonic increases 
vitality, purifies the blood, tones up the nerves 
and exterminates disease by removing its 
producing cause. 


simple, aa 11, 10—11, 

constantly grown with my increasing observation and 
experience.’^ W. H. DePUY, A.M., D.D., LL.D 

(Editor People’s Cyclopaedia.) 



Write for 1 12pp. illustrated booklet FREE 

ELECTROUBRATION CO. 


1122 Broadway 
NEW YORK 








litis 




Built by Ihe^ewYorRCcnlral line 
ihal Hauled a train 
On the fastest lime 
Ever made in the world 
Orsungofin rhyme 

America’s Greatest railroad 


*Thc New York Central leads Ihc world" 

Leslies WcekI/* 

COmJQHt. 6T GCOROC H. OANItU. OCNtRAl PASSCNOCR AOCNT. 


43 





A Terrible Temptation; or, Misplaced Confidence. Concluded 


WITH THE WITS. 



44 


Walker Pike (twenty minutes latei).-“ Cat's right, Willie: give it to 'im, while I smash de sign fer foolin' us. 


Wanamaker’s 
New Music Counter. 

I T would be an anomaly if our music counter was not in harmony with the rest of the 
store. Therefore, after much tuning and toning up, we announce that it has joined 
the procession of the progressive departments, and is confidently expecting a chorus 
of applause from our patrons. 

Besides a long list of the five-cent sheet music (catalogue sent free, post-paid, upon 
application), there is a comprehensive assortment of Folios, both vocal and instrumental, 
for quartettes, duets, and solos. 

A feature is being made of new music. You will always find the latest popular 
songs, the best of contemporary instrumental music at this counter. The librettos and 
scores of all operas can be found here, if they can possibly be obtained for the trade, 
and if you should desire anything that we cannot carry in stock, it will afford us pleas- 
ure to obtain it for you. 

Now, all that has gone before is piano in comparison to the grand fortissimo of the 
announcement that we are giving liberal discounts on the prices charged by publishers 
and regular music stores. 

The Early Life of Abraham Lincoln. 

Containing many unpublished documents and unpublished reminiscences of Lin- 
coln s early friends. By Ida M. Tarbell, assisted by j. McCan Davis. 

This volume also contains i6o illustrations, including 20 portraits of Lincoln. 
Cloth bound. Price, 80 cents ; postpaid, 92 cents. 

A Short Life of Napoleon Bonaparte. 

By Ida M. Tarbell. With 250 illustrations from the Hon. Gardiner G. Hubbard’s 
collection of Napoleon engravings, supplemented by pictures from the collection 
of Prince Victor Napoleon, Prince Roland Bonaparte, Baron Larrey, and others. 
Price, 80 cents ; postpaid, 95 cents. 

The Evolution of Woman. 

A collection of sketches and verses by Harry Whitney McVickar, on the new 
woman, who, of course, can never grow old. A most interesting and amusing 
book; adangerous enemy to ^^the blues.” Price, $1.50; by mail, $1.65. 

The Bicyclers, and Three Other Farces. 

By John Kendric Bangs. A most excellent collection of mirth-provoking farces, 
with such environments that they can easily be produced in any ordinary drawing- 
room. Price, 90 cents; by mail, $1.00. 

“Blackwood’s” History of the United States. 

By Frederick S. Dickson. A very clever compilation of quotations from the 
English Magazine, i860 to 1866, which rather makes it appear that our English 
cousins don’t love us so very much after all. Paper cover, postpaid, 20 cents. 


John Wanamaker, Philadelphia 


45 


LIPPINCOTTS MAGAZINE ADVERTISER. 


Worcester’s Unabridged 

Quarto Dictionary. 

Sheep, marbled edges, $10.00; half Turkey morocco, marbled edges, $12.00; half 
Russia, marbled edges, $12.00; half Russia, vermilion edges, $12.50 ; full 
Russia, marbled edges, $16.00 ; full Russia, vermilion edges, $16.50; 
full Turkey, marbled edges, $16.00 ; full Turkey, extra gilt 
edges, $17.00. The above styles with Denison’s 
Patent Index, 75 cents additional. 


MASSIVE volume of 2126 pages, containing over 120,000 words in its 
vocabulary, with their orthography as sanctioned by the best usage ; 
their pronunciation according to the present usage among scholars, 
literary men, and cultured society ; their definitions in concise, accurate, 
and complete form ; and their etymologies drawn from the most reliable 
sources, and including all the important results of the latest researches 
in philology. • 

It contains a New Pronouncing Biographical Dictionary of nearly 
12,000 personages; a New Pronouncing Gazetteer of the World, noting 
and locating over 20,000 places. Containing also a Supplement of over 
12,500 New Words, recently added, together with a table of 5000 words 
in general use, with their synonymes. Illustrated with wood-cuts and full- 
page plates. 

Worcester’s Dictionary is the Standard Authority on all questions of 
Orthography, Pronunciation, or Definition, and is so recognized by all the 
colleges of the country, by the principal newspapers and periodicals, by 
such leaders of American thought as Phillips Brooks, Edward Everett 
Hale, George Bancroft, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Irving, Marsh, Agassiz, 
Henry, etc., and has been publicly recommended as the standard authority 
by the leading newspapers of England and America. Leading book- 
publishers recognize Worcester as the highest authority, and millions of 
school-books are issued every year with this great work as the standard. 


TESTIMONIALS. 

‘‘The new and authentic etymologies, the conciseness and completeness of the defi* 
nitions, the nicety with which the different shades of meaning in synonymes are dis- 
tinguished, and the conscientious accuracy of the work in all its departments, give it, 
in my judgment, the highest claims to public favor.” — Wii.i:.iam CunrEN Bryant. 

“I am a thorough believer in Worcester’s system of orthography, and I consider 
myself fortunate in possessing a copy of the new edition of a Dictionary which / have 
always regarded as the best in the English language. The biographical and geo- 
graphical matter given in the new issue adds, of course, greatly to the value of the 
work.” — Hon. T. B. Aedrich, Author. 'Editor Atlantic Monthly. 

‘‘I lose no opportunity of saying that I find Worcester’s large Dictionary the most 
convenient for use, and by far the best authority known to me as to the present use of 
the English language. ” — Edward Everett Haee. 

“On questions of orthography I shall make it (Worcester) my standard.” — HoN. 
George Bancroft. 


For sale by all Booksellers^ or will be sent direct by 


J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, Publishers, 


46 


5*5 

II It will pay you to investigate f; 
II before purchasing. f’ 


TH 






Ohmer Dust-Proof 
Letter-File Cabinets 

HAVE BEEN IMPROVED 

and placed within the reach of all, 
from the individual of limited means 
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logue and circulars to 




The M. OHMER’S SONS COMPANY, 
First and Main Streets, 
Dayton, O., U.S.A. 


>1^ 



(MAR! AN! WINE) 


THE IDEAL FRENCH TONIC. 

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“her majesty, empress marie 

FEODOROWNA, FINDING GREAT 
BENEFIT FROM THE USE OF YOUR 
TONIC-WINE, REQUESTS FIFTY 
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ST. PETERSBURG RUSSIA. 


At Drcooists & Fancy Orockrs. Avoid Substitutions. 


Sent free, if this paper is mentioned. 


descriptive Book, Portraits and Autographs 
of Celebrities. 

MARIANI & CO., 

Paris t 41 Boulevard Haussmanu. 62 Weat 15th St., Niw Yom. 
London : 239 Oxford Street. 



SOLID THROUGH TRAINS BETWEEN 


CINCINNATI, 
TOLEDO DETROIT. 


Pullman Vestibuled Trains Between 

CINCINNATI, 

INDIANAPOLIS, 

AND OHIO AGO. 


Through Car Lines from Cincinnati via 
Indianapolis to St. Louis ; also 
Cincinnati via Indianapolis to 
Decatur, Springfield, 111., 
and Keokuk. 


WM. M. GREENE, D. G. EDWARDS, 

General Manager, General Paes. Agent, 

CINCINNATI, OHIO. 


^ ^ ^ ^ 

Cripple Cr«eK 

The Santa Fe Route is the most di- 
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line from Chicago and Kansas City 
to the celebrated Cripple Creek gold 
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Gold ! Gold ! 

Address G. T. Nicholson, G. P. A., 
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copy of profusely illustrated book 
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well worth reading. 

Sapta Fe Route 

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in Aaaison Arcner's most interesting style, telling sight>seer8, 
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Valuable booklet free. 

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POWDER 

Absolutely Pure. 

A cream of tartar baking powder. High- 
est of all in leavening strength . — Latest 
United States Government Food Report. 

Royal Baking Powder Co., New York. 


Chosen by the 

Government 


The War Department pro- 
poses to test the Bicycle 
thoroughly for army use, 
and recently advertised for 
proposals for furnishing five 
bicycles for the purpose. 
Result: Bids from $50 to 
$85 each for other machines; 
our bid of $100 each for 
Columbias, their invariable 
And the Government selected 



pnce. 



Bicycles 


STANDARD OF THE VORLD 

The experts who made the choice decided that Columbias 
were worth every dollar of the $ioo asked for them. If 
YOU are willing to pay $ioo for a bicycle why be con- 
tent with anything but a Columbia ? 

The handsome Art Catalogue that tells of Columbia 
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agent; by mail from us for two 2-cent stamps. 

POPE MANUFACTURING CO., Hartford, Conn. 



5oap 

It Floats 

No other soap 
is found in so 
many homes. 


Thc Procter Gamble Co. Cinui 



LiLLIANWskLL;- 
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nS 

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mi 

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22 . % \ 
et- A I 

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13 S- 


EVANOU 


Cream of 


A new accessory to the toilet— softens the skin, beautifies the 
complexion. Evanola can be used externally and internally 
for sore throat and loss of voice, etc. Mothers will find it in- 
13 ^4* I dispensable for chafing and scalding of infants. Price, 10 cts. 

M w !■ PO I w U III ■ All druggists, and the pharmacy departm’t of dry goods stores. 















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